


A Winglord's Duty

by Exdraghunt



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Eggpreg, Mechpreg, Multi, Seeker Trines, ending the war, seeker orgies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-03 11:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: "Rising from the ashes of a fallen city, Winglord Starscream gathered those that were left and joined in with the Decepticon cause to take revenge against the Cybertronian elite. He fulfilled the Winglord’s duty to his people by leading them in war, but never had a chance to learn how else the Lord of Vos was meant to serve seeker-kind. "





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is basically just a thin plot and some seeker headcanons as an excuse to write some fluffy Starscream eggpreg/mechpreg fic.

The spires of the City of Vos once gracefully reached up through the thin atmosphere of Cybertron, stretching towards the stars overhead and creating a lofty home for its Seeker citizens. Elegant fliers danced through the crystal towers, broad wings holding them aloft as colorful plating created a moving rainbow through Cybertron’s skies. It was a joyful sight that few outsiders ever witnessed. Prejudice against flightframes from the grounder upperclasses that ruled Cybertron ensured that Seekers stayed mostly in their city and kept to themselves.

Watching over Vos was their Winglord, a seeker with the strength of spark to form the center of the complex web of trine and kin bonds that connected every living seeker. The Winglord was ruler, protector, and commander of Vos and all its citizens. More than that, though, the Winglord was also a source of Life.

It was well known that seekers could not reproduce on their own. Though their sparks could sire offspring, they could not carry. They had originally been designed as warframes after all, their only purpose to seek out and destroy any potential threats to Cybertron. And warframes needed to be kept under strict control. A tight grip on their ability to increase their numbers would keep them heeled on their leash. The majority of seekers were cold-constructed in factories; only the Winglord could produce new seeker sparklings.

But it had been thousands of vorns since Cybertron had last been at war, and the leaders of the planet had settled on quietly hating their once respected warframes. Outside of Vos, no one paid much attention to seekers and their unique culture and language. And that was just the way they liked it.

Evolving from their roots as tools of war into a people of their own, the seekers guarded their secrets jealously. As the memories of the last war faded from the minds of even the most elderly of Cybertronians, grounders came to resent flight frames and their power-hungry systems. The supply of energon was no longer as plentiful as it had once been, and it didn’t take long for there to be grumblings in some circles that maybe it would be best to see an end to flighted mechs so that there would be more energon for everyone else.

And so the Winglord protected his people, and made sure that they continued. Every few vorns, as long as energon was plentiful, the Winglord’s reproductive cycle would activate and seekers who had reached their majority age would flock to his aerie to contribute to the next generation. It was a time of great celebration and indulgence, and also the best kept secret of Vos. How easy would it be for the Senate to wipe out their race if they knew that a single mech produced the new generation?

Then the civil war began. Conflicts started in all corners of the planet as the new Decepticon faction rebelled against the corruption of the Senate and the ruling class of Cybertron. Many seekers, tired of the prejudice against Flightframes, joined the fighting on the Decepticon side, though Vos had not made an official declaration of joining the burgeoning war.

Still, the sight of seekers participating in the fighting against the Senate fanned the flames of hate against the flighted warframes. Then, the unthinkable happened and the Winglord was assassinated. The bonds that connected all seekers were deeply shaken, and a new Winglord had to be chosen. One which would be able to lead his people in a time of war, while still having the strength of spark to support the great network of bonds.

There weren’t many candidates, and a brash young seeker by the name of Starscream rose quickly to the top of the list. He had made a name for himself as one of the only flightframes, and the only seeker, to ever be accepted to the Iacon Science Academy. After being expelled from the Academy due to the loss of his science partner, Starscream took his incredible intelligence and acerbic tongue to task as a representative of Vos to the Senate. His rants trying to secure rights for his seeker kin became infamous in Vos, earning him a sort of notoriety despite the refusal of the Senate to listen to him.

Yes, Starscream was the best candidate. He was outspoken, had great leadership potential, and, despite his strange lack of any of the special Outlier abilities that most seekers had, his spark was unusually strong. The only problem was that he had no trine. To see a seeker of his age who had not yet found trinemates was considered quite odd indeed, their frametype was driven to locate two others who suited them well in personality, abilities, and spark. Originally a strategic grouping for war, now considered just another quirk of the seeker build.

A winglord with no trine just would not do. So, all untrined seekers who had reached their adult frame were invited to participate in a great celebration that was at once a dance and a challenge. To trine with the winglord-elect, one must first be able to keep up with him.

At first, all feared that no such mechs would be found. Starscream, despite his scientific background, was perhaps the fastest seeker ever sparked and had no equal in the air. He outflew every seeker who tried to keep up with him, until, finally, all that were left were two. They had no hope of actually catching Starscream, but they had the determination to keep going. To dance and spiral until it looked less like a chase and more like a choreographed display of skill. Slowly, Starscream shifted from trying to outfly them to flying with them, never slowing down but dancing around their movements in a beautiful show of aerobatics. One of his suitors, with a sturdy frame in blue and grey, let off a sonic boom that echoed and rippled through the spires of Vos and forced all of the other contestants to fall away. All except the one other flier, purple and black with a teasing, twisting dance, who teleported in and out of Starscream’s flight path in a clear dare and challenge.

Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed a strange match for Starscream, but their opposing personalities managed to mesh surprisingly well. Starscream with the brilliant mind, Thundercracker with the calm patience, and Skywarp with the ability to make sudden leaps of logic and connections much like he teleported. A new Winglord was crowned, and Starscream took his place as leader and center of Seeker society with his trinemates at his side.

Then, Vos fell. The bombing was as sudden as it was devastating. Vos had no protective dome to shield it from attack like Praxus or Iacon, and even its war frame residents couldn’t guard against long-range missiles that caused the great spires to crash to the ground. Only the young and the strong survived. The elder seekers, keepers of knowledge and culture, fell either to the initial impact or to the trauma of broken bonds as half the population of the city perished.

Rising from the ashes of the fallen city, Winglord Starscream gathered those that were left and joined in with the Decepticon cause to take revenge against the Cybertronian elite. He fulfilled the Winglord’s duty to his people by leading them in war, but never had a chance to learn how else the Lord of Vos was meant to serve seeker-kind.


	2. Chapter 2

For once in his life, Starscream was actually feeling pretty good about things. Sure, he was still stuck on the miserable mudball known as “Earth” in a crusty, underwater base full of idiots, but he had finally managed to convince Megatron to call down more of his seeker forces from Cybertron. The warlord had initially been reluctant to add more of the flighty warframes to his small force on Earth, fearing that they were more loyal to Starscream than to himself (for once, old bucket-head wasn’t being entirely paranoid, as that was actually a rather accurate assessment) but things hadn’t been going as well on Earth as they had hoped. The Autobots outnumbered them, and had also secured the assistance of the planet’s native Humans. Superiority in flight was one of the few advantages the Decepticons had left, and so Megatron summoned four more trines of seekers to Earth.

With these new troops bolstering their forces, raids actually started going well. Annoyingly, they still hadn’t managed to kill any Autobots, but they were getting away with large amounts of energon. Enough, in fact, that for the first time in millennia, the Decepticon forces could drink their fill instead of surviving on starvation rations.

The fifth successful raid in a row called for celebration. Taking over one of the many unused hangers on the Nemesis, the seekers gathered together enough energon for even their systems to get mightily overcharged and set about having a real party.

“It’s almost like old times,” Thundercracker commented from his place next to Starscream, sipping at a cube of high-grade as they watched the seeker forces have their fun. The hanger was filled by the musical tones of the Vosian language, one of the few independent Cybertronian languages to have survived the eons of civil war. It had been many vorns since the fliers had been able to relax with their own kind like this.

“Before Megatron went off his rocker and scattered my forces across the galaxy,” Starscream snorted, though his usual biting tone was tempered by the amount of high-grade he had consumed. “Paranoid old glitch.”

“Hey, Screamer! Come on and join the party,” Skywarp suddenly popped into existence on Starscream’s other side, already thoroughly blitzed as he draped himself across his trine-leader’s wings.

“Don’t call me that!” Starscream automatically snapped, though it held little of his usual bite. He had to admit, he actually felt. . .good. More than good. His fuel tank was full for the first time in a long while, and his spark sang from the nearness of so many of his people. It was sad that he’d been so long apart from his seekers that the presence of less than twenty of his kind could have such an effect on him, but it was more than he’d had this close since before they’d crash-landed on this backwater planet.

“But you feel so nice.” Skywarp hummed, energy field mingling with Starscream’s in a very pleasant way. He ran his glossa along the leading edge of his trine-leader’s wing, teasing the sensitive seams and sensors there.

“Skywarp, you-!” Whatever Starscream was going to say was lost to a moan as his trinemate hit the sweet spot on his wing hinge. Starscream was no exhibitionist, preferring not to reinforce the stereotype of seekers being interface-hungry sluts where others could see him, but would it really be so bad here and now? In a room where no grounders could watch and make ignorant comments?

Almost as if he’d heard, Thundercracker added his hands to the talents of Skywarp’s glossa and Starscream began to melt in their touch. Hundreds of vorns of being trinemates meant they knew just where and how to touch to rev their trine-leader up.

Starscream squirmed in his seat, systems warming up and lubricant beginning to pool behind his valve panel. More hands began to touch him, stroking his wings, his legs, and his thrusters. Opening hazy optics, Starscream realized that the rest of the seekers in the room had crowded around him as well, all eager to service their Lord. Fingers tickled their way up his thighs, and Starscream found his panel snapping open. A mouth was there to greet his valve, and when did Skywarp get in front of him? The hands teasing his wingflaps were green now. Acid Storm? Starscream was too distracted by Thundercracker kissing him to investigate further.

The mouth on his valve was replaced by a spike, sinking into him slowly to fill him up just right. Blue-white light washed over the flock as chest plating folded aside to reveal sparks, energy pulsing on all sides as Starscream lost himself to the haze of pleasure. At least there were some mechs who knew how to treat a leader properly.

The seeker orgy lasted through the night cycle and until morning, the participants only pausing to refuel. Whenever Starscream’s energy levels began to flag, there was a full cube being passed to him, even as he continued to be pleasured. It was the best party he’d been to in a very long time.

All good things must come to an end, though, and the mood in the hanger was abruptly killed by an unwelcome voice.

“Well then, I guess seekers really can’t keep it in their plating.” Astrotrain laughed from the door, looking at the pile of wings and limbs with a smirk. “Room for one more?”

Starscream struggled upright, pushing aside seekers to glare more effectively at the intruder. “Get out!”

Astrotrain laughed harder, though he did, at least, turn around and shut the door behind him.

“Alright, back to work!” Starscream shoved and wiggled until he was free, kicking at a few of the seekers who were slower to move. “Megatron will have my hide if you lot don’t report for your shifts.”

The room was full of groans as seekers staggered to their pedes, worn out and sore after an entire cycle of drinking and fragging. Starscream slowly pushed himself to his pedes, feeling transfluid and lubricant trickle down his thighs, and grimaced. Maybe a trip to the washracks first.

Fortunately, the rest of the Decepticon army had gotten just as overcharged and the exhaustion of the seeker forces was not commented on. Starscream stumbled through the day, entire body feeling sore from having a little too much ‘fun.’ Even his spark felt funny, still swirling with the energies of his seekers from a night of merging.

Things slowly returned to normal, or at least as normal as things ever got in the Decepticon Base. Being in a starship sunk in the deep ocean could send the seekers a little stir-crazy, so they went for frequent flights to get out of the claustrophobic hallways. It was a moment of freedom that Starscream had always enjoyed spending with his trinemates, no other Decepticons to stay guarded against, and now he had more seekers to fly with. Almost like old times.

A little less like old times was ending every flight with another epic interfacing session. Seekers had a reputation for always being down to ‘face, but this was a little over-the-top even for them. Not that Starscream was complaining. It was good to have subjects who could treat their Lord right.

Although, maybe all the excessive interfacing was not entirely a good thing. Starscream had noticed that his energon consumption had nearly doubled, something fortunately not noticed with the surplus the Decepticons currently had but a fact that would be brought to Megatron’s attention eventually. The seekers were also being very touchy, staying irritatingly close to him and stroking his wings, which was fine when they were alone but totally unacceptable in front of non-seekers. The last thing Starscream needed was the Decepticon army thinking he’d gone soft.

It didn’t help that he was apparently literally going soft. Starscream grumbled as he sat on the edge of his berth, poking at his abdominal plating with irritation. His armor plating had begun to feel rather tight around the middle, gaps starting to form with his protoform showing through.

“What’s wrong, Star?” Skywarp pressed himself up against his trine-leader’s back, having been woken by the echoes of Starscream’s disgruntlement through their trine-bond.

“I’m getting fat,” Starscream grumbled, leaning back against Skywarp. “Look at this, I’ve gained more than a ton of fluid and mass.”

“Maybe you should cut back on the energon.” Skywarp suggested, before squawking when Thundercracker tweaked his wingtip.

“That’s not how that works, ‘Warp.” Thundercracker chastised, though he did seem concerned over Starscream’s changes. “Maybe you’ve caught a virus. Do you want to go see Hook?”

Starscream snorted, “And let that butcher get his hands on me? Please. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Everything was not fine. The increased energon consumption continued, as did the weight gain. Even with all the extra energon he was drinking, Starscream still felt strangely exhausted all the time, as though something was draining his very spark energy. And, despite all this, he was still constantly horny! It was unbearable.

Maybe he really had caught a virus. It had been awhile since his last anti-viral download, after all. After he nearly passed out during a command center shift, Starscream retreated to his quarters to take a little look at his systems. It was time to figure out just what was going on.

Sitting silently on his berth, Starscream turned his attention inward and started sifting through lines and lines of internal code. There had to be something out of place; these sorts of changes didn’t occur for no reason. He just had to find anything new that had initialized in the last few orns.

Digging deeper and deeper, Starscream frowned as he found no foreign code in his system. There were some new processes that had come online, but they were all things that had been a part of his programming for most of his life. Why had it only activated now, and why was it doing. . . _this_ to him?

Tracing the active programs back to their source, Starscream onlined his optics with an affronted squawk. “What in the Pit are Reproductive protocols?”

Thundercracker and Skywarp finished their shifts and returned to their shared quarters, discovering that Starscream was already there pacing the room angrily. The set of his wings made his frustration and confusion obvious, even if they couldn’t already feel it in their sparks.

“Uh, something up, Starscream?” Skywarp ventured, carefully staying outside the clawing range of his trine-leader.

“I have reproductive protocols online!” Starscream exclaimed in irritation. “What does that even mean?!”

“Uh, is that like a heat cycle?” Skywarp had only heard of such things in certain vids he liked to watch.

Starscream leveled an unamused glare at his trinemate. “Seekers don’t have heat cycles, that was made up for grounder fetish porn.”

“Oh,” Skywarp shrugged. “Well, it would explain why we’ve all been so down to frag lately.”

That was true, the seekers had been unusually amorous recently. Still, Starscream was pretty damn sure that ‘heat cycles’ weren’t actually a thing.

“Except that seekers can’t carry, it’s common knowledge.” Starscream threw up his hands in frustration. “We shouldn’t have ‘reproductive protocols’.”

“Normal seekers can’t,” Thundercracker commented slowly, brow furrowed in thought, “But what about the Winglord?”

Starscream and Skywarp stared at him.

“What?” Thundercracker held up his hands defensively. “You’re Winglord, you have programming the rest of us don’t. What if this is part of it?”

It was true, Starscream did have programs and abilities that other seekers did not, most of which had to do with supporting the bond network that he was the center of. Still- “So, what? The Winglord is the only seeker who can carry? Popping out sparklings for the rest of the population? That’s ridiculous!” Everyone knew that seekers were built in factories. It was why there had been no new seekers since the manufacturing facilities in Vos had been destroyed.

“You have been drinking a lot of energon,” Skywarp pointed out. “And there’s all the weight gain. And the fragging.”

“If the Winglord was some kind of-“ Starscream waved a hand in the air, trying to pluck out the right phrase, “_Brood queen_, I’m pretty sure I would know!”

“Would you?” Thundercracker questioned seriously. “I know none of us were very old when Vos fell, and without the elders. . .”

It was, unfortunately, a valid point. So much of Vosian cultural heritage had been lost in the bombing. And with the previous Winglord dead before Starscream took over the title, he had never gotten the chance to mentor under his predecessor as all the rulers before him had. Who knew what knowledge had been forgotten?

“Skywarp,” Starscream turned to look at his other trinemate, “Go to the medbay and get me a medical scanner.”

“What?” Skywarp looked at his trineleader like he was crazy. “Hook doesn’t lend out his stuff to anybody, much less me.”

“Well then steal it!” Starscream snapped. “I know you can, considering you somehow managed to glue all the tools in there to the ceiling two cycles ago.”

Skywarp let out a brief giggle at the memory of his prank before he warped out of the room in a flash of purple light. He returned a minute later, the requested med-scanner in hand.

Starscream snatched the device and fiddled with its settings for a moment before scanning himself. Looking at the results, he scowled and scanned himself again. And again. Finally, Starscream threw the scanner down onto the berth with a frustrated groan.

“Well?” Skywarp leaned in closer, insatiably curious. “What’s it say?”

“I’m sparked.” Starscream’s shoulders sagged in a defeated way. “It says I’m sparked.”

“That’s amazing!” Skywarp couldn’t contain his excitement at the thought of little bitty seekerlings toddling around. It would be unbearably adorable. Unfortunately, Starscream didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. “Isn’t it?”

“Of course not!” One of Starscream’s hands moved to rest on his chest, over his spark chamber. Over the sparklings. “What do you think Megatron is going to do to me when he finds out?”

That was a very good, and scary point. The old warlord would never sit idly by while his Air Commander grew heavy and slow with new life. Sparklings emerged near-helpless and took vorns to raise to maturity, which was the entire reason none had been born since the war began. It was far quicker and more efficient to cold-construct new adult frames. Even if Megatron didn’t immediately order them aborted, it was well known that his Second In Command was also his favorite punching bag. Starscream didn’t know how much damage would be enough to cause reabsorption, and he didn’t want to find out.

“So what are we going to do?” Thundercracker asked.

“I’ll think of something.” Starscream promised, even if he had no idea what it would be. But he would have to make some kind of plan, or the first new generation of seekers in eons would never have their chance to taste flight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the Megatron problem is taken care of (warning for some violence and character death)

For now, the three agreed that no one else needed to know. Not even the other seekers. The more people that tried to keep a secret, the more likely that the nosey Soundwave and his little cadre of spies would get curious. Though, Starscream could swear the other seekers seemed to know something was up even without being told. They were being more protective than ever, to the point that Starscream could hardly turn around without smacking someone else’s wings. Other Decepticons couldn’t approach Starscream without getting growled at. Even Thundercracker bared his teeth and rumbled his engines at Octane when he got too close. It was getting fairly ridiculous.

The next battle came and Starscream did his best to keep up and above the range of the Autobot’s weapons, directing his forces from his lofty position. Any time a lucky shot did manage to get close, the shooter quickly found themselves the target of several irate seekers doing their best to relieve the unfortunate mech of their limbs.

Even the Decepticons were starting to go out of their way to avoid “those crazy seekers” after Sunstorm had made a valiant attempt at clawing out Bonecrusher’s optics for shoving Starscream in the rec room. It had descended into an all-out brawl from there, leaving the Constructicons to limp away with deep claw gouges in their plating.

The entire base was tense with the seekers acting so odd, and it couldn’t last forever. The breaking point came after an inevitable failed raid. While they had gotten away with some of the energon, the Autobots had showed up entirely too soon and the Decepticons had been forced to call a retreat. Megatron was in a right mood as the Nemesis’ docking tower sunk back into the sea, and the rest of the army was silent as they nursed their wounds. Even Starscream was uncharacteristically quiet, arms wrapped around himself in an unconscious need to try and protect his unborn young. The other seekers were close behind him, doing their best to guard their Winglord from any outside threat.

Unfortunately, Megatron was a force to be reckoned with when angered, and he was definitely angry. It was of little surprise to anyone when he lunged for Starscream once they had all exited the docking tower back into the ship’s control room, grabbing the seeker by one wingtip with a grip hard enough to crush plating.

Starscream couldn’t keep in a yelp as he was dragged closer to the Decepticon leader, pain shooting through his wing. Megatron lashing out after a failed raid was a common enough occurrence, but now Starscream had more to worry about than just himself.

“Where was my air support out there?!” Megatron demanded, twisting Starscream’s wing to force the flier to his knees, “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed you avoiding battles lately. Coward!”

“L-lord Megatron, I-“ Starscream’s attempt at his usual groveling was interrupted when he was viciously backhanded and thrown to the deck.

“Shut up!” Megatron snarled, picking up one enormous pede and pressing it into Starscream’s chest. “I can see how much energon you’ve been guzzling, you barely fit into your armor anymore. Drinking all of our stores, have you?” He ground his heel into the seeker’s cockpit, cracking the glass and wringing a screech from Starscream’s voicebox.

After that, several things happened at once. The high whine of a turbine engine revving up was the only warning before a sonic boom rattled the control room, sending mechs reeling with glitching audios and gyros as Thundercracker launched himself at the Warlord. At almost the same time, Skywarp teleported in behind Megatron and did his best to try and rip the mech’s arm from his socket. Energon spilled onto the deckplates as Skywarp dug his claws in, tearing at dark grey armor with all his strength.

Off-balance under his attackers, Megatron was immediately dogpiled by all of the other seekers and toppled over under the weight. The old gladiator did his best to throw off his attackers, succeeding in sending Cloudburst and Downdraft flying across the room, but there were too many seekers for him to shake them all.

Sunstorm leapt onto Megatron’s back, plating glowing bright yellow as radiation poured from his body. Sparks spat from the old Warlord’s body as systems shorted out and plating buckled. Acid Storm attacked in tandem from the other side, a cloud of corrosive acid surrounding his hands as he pressed them against Megatron’s chest. The warlord tried to throw him off, but Skywarp was still wrapped around his fusion cannon arm and Thundercracker had his claws embedded deeply in the other. Acid melted through his heavy chest plating, layer by layer until it reached his spark chamber. Flickering blue light was exposed for a few seconds, until the acid burned through it too and all went dark.

A hush fell over the command room as the seekers retreated from the body of their victim, everyone staring at the offlined corpse of Megatron. Even Starscream had nothing to say, mouth hanging open as Rainfall and Ion Storm helped him to his pedes again.

“Are you okay, my Lord?” Ion Storm asked softly, brushing a hand over the twisted plating of his wing.

“Y-yeah,” Starscream managed, barely noticing the pain in his wing. He’d had much worse over the years. He was more worried about the sparklings. Would he know if they had been damaged, if re-absorption had begun? Surely it would hurt, or something, right?

“Oh Primus,” There was a whimper from Bitstream, who seemed to only just now realize what he and the other seekers had done. “We killed Megatron.”

“He deserved it,” Sunstorm snarled, “Threatening our Lord like that.”

Slowly, Starscream’s processor caught up with current events. Megatron was dead. He was _dead_.

“Well, then.” Starscream smirked, kicking at the warlord’s helm so that it flopped to one side lifelessly, “It looks like the Mighty Megatron has fallen, and I am now the new leader of the Decepticons.”

“Not for long, you aren’t.” It seemed the other Decepticons were recovering from their shock. Astrotrain raised a blaster and aimed at Starscream, but hadn’t even managed to pull the trigger before he was tackled by several seekers and forcibly disarmed.

This made most of the other Decepticons pause in their attempts to off Starscream as well, though they were clearly still thinking about it. There were plenty of power-hungry mechs in the ranks who hadn’t had the bolts to take on Megatron, but wouldn’t hesitate to kill Starscream and take over command if they had the chance.

Arguing and shouting broke out, mechs wailing about the loss of Megatron, threatening Starscream, or declaring their own bids for leadership. The light blue seeker Ion Storm frowned from his place next to his Winglord, not liking all of the potential threats all around. Or all of the noise.

“Stop!” The shout from the seeker was lost in the noise of the room. Ion Storm stepped forward, away from the other ranks of seekers, and electricity flashed over his plating in warning. “I said stop!”

Ion Storm stamped his thruster and an EMP blast flashed out from his body. Every mech in the room staggered as systems crashed and rebooted, and even the seekers, who were in general well-shielded from the spark abilities of their frame-kin, looked a little rattled.

“Alright, everybody out!” Starscream commanded once everyone had sufficiently recovered from the pulse.

Fighting threatened to break out again, weapons systems onlining across the room, but Starscream had no trouble making himself heard over the din.

“I said OUT!” Everyone winced as Starscream’s raspy voice cracked on the last word, creating a feedback squeal in many an audial, but it had the desired effect on the mechs who started to head for the door. The threatening hisses and wing rattles from the seeker forces helped.

Only one mech didn’t move, and indeed hadn’t since the whole debacle started. Starscream turned and spotted Soundwave, standing motionless against one of the computer terminals. The spymaster was, as always, completely unreadable and there wasn’t a single hint of what might be going through his processor.

“Soundwave!” Starscream stared right at the other mech, “We need to talk.”

The other mech dipped his head in a single nod and turned to the door for the attached war room, keying it open silently. Starscream made to follow, but stopped when he realized every single one of his seekers had moved with him.

“You don’t need to follow me everywhere!” Starscream said in exasperation. It wouldn’t do for other mechs to think he couldn’t do anything on his own. “Go out into the ship and make sure none of those other idiots get up to anything.”

There was a brief scuffle and muttered conversation amongst the wings, obviously trying to decide if they could leave their Winglord alone with a Grounder known to be dangerous. Finally, they parted so that Thundercracker and Skywarp could move to the front. The expression on their faces made it clear that their presence in the meeting was non-negotiable.

Well, having his two trinemates with him was much less embarrassing than having the entirety of the seeker forces hanging off his wings, so Starscream just rolled his optics and allowed them to follow him into the war room.

Starscream sat at the large meeting table across from Soundwave, eyeing the other mech with suspicious optics. Before he could say anything, though, Soundwave spoke first.

“Query: status of the sparklings?”

Shock flooded through the three seekers, who stared at Soundwave incredulously. Of course Soundwave knew. _Of course. _The damn mech seemed to know everything about everyone.

“Wha-, how the frag do you know?” Skywarp exclaimed, earning him a furious glare from Starscream and an elbow to the ribstruts from Thundercracker.

“Soundwave: can sense their energy signatures.” The spymaster explained simply, damn monotone giving nothing away about his actual feelings on the matter. “Status of sparklings?”

“They’re fine.” Starscream said shortly, hoping to Primus that it was true. “What do you care?”

“Sparklings: must be protected.” Soundwave stated firmly, a certain glint to his visor.

“Well then,” Starscream leaned back a bit, a little of the tension leaving his frame. “For once, we agree on something. As new leader of the Decepticons, I think it’s time I bring an end to this war. I want these sparklings to grow up on Cybertron, not this dirt bucket. We need to make peace with the Autobots.”

The room was filled with a long moment of silence, and Starscream wished that Soundwave wouldn’t wear that stupid visor and mask just so he could see the expression on the mech’s face. Thundercracker and Skywarp felt equally surprised, having expected one of Starscream’s usual rants.

“Surrender to the Autobots?” Skywarp exclaimed, staring at his trineleader with wide optics, “Are you mad?”

“Not surrender, armistice,” Starscream corrected with irritation. “How long has this war gone on for? How many of our people have been lost? Cybertron is dead, we’ve been reduced to a mere fraction of our former numbers, and we’re stuck on this planet because Megatron was too obsessed with Optimus Prime to think of anything else! Well, I’m ending it. Do you have any problems with that?”

Skywarp and Thundercracker shook their heads, surprised by the passionate words from their trine-leader. Even more surprising was when Soundwave did so as well.

“Soundwave: Agrees.” 

“Oh, really?” Starscream raised an optic ridge. “Millenia of loyal service, and you have no problem with just ending the war?”

“Soundwave’s loyalty: necessary to secure safety for creations.” Soundwave raised a hand to his chest compartment, where his symbiotes rested and recharged. “War’s end: beneficial for all.”

Satisfied with that, Starscream nodded. “Well alright then. Prepare to record a message, to send out to all Decepticons. They can either follow me in ending this war, or leave the planet to hide out in some distant star system and hope I never find them.”

With the message recorded and Soundwave on his side, Starscream was finally able to walk back to his quarters and collapse on his berth. The rest of the army would hopefully stay under control while he got a little rest. The unexpected ferocity of the seekers seemed to have cowed most of the Decepticons, and the threat of Soundwave would take care of the rest.

Starscream collapsed on his berth gratefully, quickly joined by his two trinemates. “I can’t believe we actually did it,” He said incredulously, “Ol’ Bucket-head is dead. Actually dead.”

“I can’t believe how you just launched yourself at him, TC,” Skywarp commented in admiration.

Thundercracker let out a somewhat embarrassed rumble of his engines, “I saw him coming for Starscream, for the sparklings, and I just. Lost it.”

“Same,” Skywarp agreed, “All I could think about was ripping off his damn arm so he couldn’t hurt Star with it anymore. Still, it was brilliant.”

“Something about the sparklings must have triggered protective programming in all the seekers,” It was the only reason Starscream could think of why all of the seekers had been so ready to attack anyone who even looked at him wrong. Certainly, none of them had ever interfered in one of his beatings before.

“Speaking of, how are the sparklings? Really?” Skywarp placed one hand over Starscream’s middle, gently petting the other seeker’s swollen plating with concern.

“They’re fine,” Starscream graciously allowed the petting to continue, the touch of his trinemate soothing some sort of unconscious itch he didn’t even know was bothering him. “I’m pretty sure, at least. Nothing hurts or anything.”

“Can you feel their sparks?” Thundercracker asked curiously.

Come to think of it, Starscream hadn’t tried that. He closed his optics and focused on his spark, finding the bonds that connected him to all other seekers. Thundercracker and Skywarp, as his trinemates, were the brightest burning on his spark. He could easily pick up every other seeker on Earth as well, all hearty and hale. Those on Cybertron were more like distant stars, a constellation of lights millions of miles away but undoubtably alive. Still, Starscream felt a pang to realize that there were more broken bonds on his spark than whole ones. So many of their kind, lost.

Every bond was familiar, every seeker one he knew, until Starscream discovered a new presence. It was fainter, radiating calm and contentment. The still young, undeveloped sparks of the sparklings. Starscream couldn’t tell how many there were yet, they were still too faint to tell apart, but no hints of distress were apparent.

“Yes, I can feel them,” Starscream said softly, pulling back from the windbond once more. “They’re okay.”

“Good.” Thundercracker leaned against Starscream, a hand drifting down to join Skywarp’s on their trine-leader’s belly. “At least this wasn’t all in vain.”

“Are we really gonna make peace with the Autobots?” Skywarp was still having a hard time getting used to the idea.

“I don’t like it either.” Starscream leaned into the comfort of his trinemates tiredly. “But I don’t see much choice. We need more fuel, and these hit and run raids have a low rate of success. We need actual medics, not hack job construction mechs playing at doctor. Cybertron is withering and dying while we play about on this mudball taking potshots at eachother. I wanted my people to be more than just flying warbuilds, and now we are nothing but. The Senate is gone, the Functionists are gone. Nova and Sentinel long dead. Optimus is soft at spark, but he can be spoken to. He will listen.”

“I hope you’re right.” Skywarp muttered, nuzzling against Starscream’s wing. He would just have to put his trust into his trine-leader and winglord.

Starscream stood before the main communication panel on the Nemesis, wings hiked high as he waited on the Ark to acknowledge his communications request. He had to look completely calm and in control, even if he wasn’t. Fortunately, the various attempts at power plays from other Decepticons had mostly been put down. The unexpected ferocity of the seekers was part of it, the fact that Soundwave had thrown in with Starscream was the other part. All Decepticons had a healthy fear of the telepathic mech capable of killing them with his mind.

A chime from communication panel indicated that someone had picked up, followed by a voice from the speakers. “Hello, this is the golden voice of Blaster speaking to you from the Ark. What’s shakin’ under the sea?”

A different Autobot cut in on the transmission, this time the irritated voice of their paranoid security director, “What do you want, Megatron?”

“This is Starscream, supreme commander of the Decepticon Army.” Starscream summoned up his most authoritative voice, squaring his shoulders even though a visual hadn’t been established yet, “I wish to speak to Optimus Prime.”

“What, did Megatron stub his toe again?” Blaster’s voice snickered. The video screen flickered, revealing an amused Blaster and a scowling Red Alert sitting in the Ark’s disgustingly orange communication hub.

“Megatron is dead.” Starscream snarled. He had expected a reaction like this from the Autobots, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still annoy him. “I lead the Decepticons now.”

“We’ve heard that one before.” Red Alert commented suspiciously. “What are you playing at this time, Starscream?”

Instead of answering, Starscream motioned Thundercracker forward from offscreen and took something from his wingmate’s hands. Both of the irritating Autobots went silent when Megatron’s severed helm was thudded down on the console before the screen.

“I’ll get Prime.” Blaster managed before jogging out of sight of the camera. Red Alert stayed at the console, glowering at Starscream until Optimus Prime himself appeared onscreen.

“Hello, Starscream,” Optimus Prime’s voice rumbled through the comm connection, battle-mask doing a decent enough job of hiding the expression of surprise that was surely on his face when he saw the greyed-out decapitated head of his greatest nemesis. “I see you have finally succeeded in your goals.”

“Yes. I have finally managed what you and the Autobots never could. Megaton is dead.” Starscream allowed himself to preen a little at the boast, ignoring that he himself had not fired a shot in the attack.

“And what do you intend to do now?” Prime’s voice didn’t give anything away, but Starscream knew he was worried. Megatron had been a predictable enemy, a shake up in the command structure of the Decepticons leadership meant less predictability and more danger.

Fortunately for Prime and his Autobots, Starscream didn’t intend to announce a mega-weapon scheme of the week this time. “I want to talk peace.”

Prime’s optics widened, and Starscream wished that damn battlemask wasn’t there so he could revel in the shellshocked expression surely on the other leader’s face.

“I see.” Prime recovered after a moment of silence, “And do you speak for the rest of the Decepticons?”

“I do.” Starscream raised his chin, spreading his wings to indicate his authority. “You may pick a neutral place to meet, equidistant from our two bases. No weapons. I will bring Soundwave, Thundercracker, and Skywarp. You may choose three of your mechs to accompany you. Is this agreeable?”

“I will bring Prowl, Jazz, and Ironhide. You will receive the coordinates and time for the meeting in a few klicks.” Prime nodded before ending the transmission.

Once the vidscreen clicked off, Starscream slumped a little and allowed his wingmates to approach him. Thundercracker and Skywarp’s fields meshed with his, soothing his lingering nerves and allowing him to relax. Starscream didn’t want to appear weak, but he suspected that carrying was making him more needy. Certainly, he had never craved his wingmate’s touches as much as he did now.

On principal, Starscream rejected the first two suggestions for a meeting place before agreeing to the third. It was a deserted stretch of beach, far from human settlements with long sight lines that would make it difficult for anyone to hide. Still, Starscream made sure to do a generous fly-over of the area to make sure no Autobots were lurking besides the four he’d promised to meet before setting down on the beach. His landing wasn’t quite as elegant and he aimed for, the growing mass of his gestation chamber had put a bit of a crimp into his transformation sequence, but Starscream doubted groundpounders like the Autobots would notice.

He was also hoping they wouldn’t notice that he had gotten a little thicker around the middle. Most Autobots were dumb as bricks, but Prowl was well known for his powers of observation. And indeed the tactician’s optics widened when Starscream walked up to them, though he mercifully did not say anything. While his carrying would become undeniably obvious soon enough, he didn’t want everybody knowing about it just yet.

“Starscream,” Optimus Prime nodded solemnly to the new Decepticon leader and his lieutenants.

“Prime.” Starscream acknowledged, his characteristic sneer on his face.

“I must admit, I was surprised to receive this request from you.” Prime noted.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a change of spark,” Starscream shrugged. “I am tired of watching my people fall in battle. I am sick of squabbling over this planet. I wish to see Cybertron revived, and that will never happen without an end to this war.”

“I see,” Prime nodded, and his frame relaxed a little. “Then let us talk of peace.”

Skywarp tuned out fairly quickly when Starscream and the Prime started talking technical details of peace. It was all about incredibly boring stuff like energon resources, not killing humans, and not shooting at each other. Skywarp was very aware he was just there as a show of muscle, just like Ironhide the walking cannon on the other side. Well, and maybe because Starscream loved him and wanted his trinemates there with him for these important talks.

Speaking of Starscream. Skywarp’s wandering processor decided that watching the sway of his trine-leader’s wings and aft as he spoke was far more interesting than the words coming out of his mouth. The delicious red aft that was so nicely grabbable. Skywarp liked to think that it was even looking a little broader than usual. Did carrying alter a mech’s frame that way? He sure hoped so. Then there were those long, silver wings, which twitched and wiggled as Starscream got really into whatever it was he was talking about. Skywarp just wanted to reach forward and nibble those ailerons. ..

A pulse of irritation came through the trine bond, making Skywarp realize that his lecherous thoughts had been leaking through to Starscream. Skywarp snickered and sent through pulse of lust before getting blocked out of the bond. Worth it.

Thundercracker just rolled his optics and gave Skywarp a nudge. They were supposed to be backing up their Winglord in these very important peace talks, not oogling his aft.

As Starscream and Optimus Prime finished up all the crucial leader-y posturing, Soundwave and Prowl took over to discuss the nitty gritty numbers and stuff. Thundercracker stepped forward and offered a cube of energon to his trine-leader, able to feel Starscream’s energy flagging through their bond.

“Sure are asking for a lot of energon,” Jazz commented, casual words and easy grace disguising how deadly everyone knew the spy to be. “Got something big going on down on the Nemesis?”

“Our forces contain a lot of flightframes, which require more energon than ground-mechs.” Starscream frowned, crossing his arms when Jazz’s optics drifted down to stare at his middle. “Naturally, we require larger energon rations.”

“Right,” Jazz’s wide grin did not fade as he wandered back over to watch Prowl and Soundwave hash things out. Starscream managed to resist the urge to place his hands over his sparklings and instead turned around to smack Skywarp for trying to grope his aft while he’d been negotiating. 


	4. Chapter 4

With a tentative ceasefire hashed out and a plan in place, Starscream and the other Decepticons returned to the Nemesis. One of the first priorities would be to establish a land base, neutral ground where the Decepticons could stay without being forced into the Ark. Nobody liked living at the bottom of Earth’s ocean, and now that an underwater base wasn’t necessary for security, it was time to leave the decrepit Nemesis behind. The Constructicons, working with the Autobots Hoist and Grapple, would be in charge of building the new base. Once new quarters were built, they would then be able to salvage what they could from the Nemesis. It was a disappointment to all that they couldn’t immediately move back to Cybertron, but the planet was near dead and did not have the means to support any significant population. They would simply have to begin manufacturing the things they needed on Earth, before Space-bridging things to Cybertron. Energy-producing methods would be first, things like solar cells, which would then allow the reconstruction of cities to begin.

Of course, there was also the little manner of Shockwave, who had denounced Starscream and cut the transmission upon being informed of Megatron’s death. Starscream and Prime still needed to sit down and discuss the best way of coordinating the Autobot femme team and the seekers still left on Cybertron to regain control of the Space Bridge.

The other thing that had come from the talks was that Starscream now had an appointment with Ratchet. He didn’t like the idea of having an Autobot pawing at him, but everyone knew that Ratchet was the best medic Cybertron had ever seen and Starscream had to admit that he knew nothing of carrying or sparklings. It would be best to make sure that everything was okay.

Of course, since the new base was only a shell under construction, that meant going all the way into Autobot territory to the Ark’s medbay. His seekers protested seeing their leader go unarmed into what they still considered an enemy base, and Starscream had to deal with their attempts to keep him in the Nemesis until he finally relented and allowed the Rainmaker trine to accompany him in addition to his own trinemates. Though Sunstorm could be annoying if he got onto a religious tangent, he, along with Acid Storm and Ion Storm, could at least be trusted to control themselves around the Autobots. They also had powerful spark gifts which could be used to defend their winglord even without weapons.

As much as Starscream enjoyed the enthusiastic interfacing that he was receiving from his seekers now that he was carrying, he could do without their incredible over-protectiveness. He doubted he was going to get any reprieve, though, especially once they all knew why their protective programming was acting up.

Landing at the Ark, the six seekers were greeted by an impressive number of Autobots. All of them looked rather unhappy, but none were pointing any weapons, so that was an improvement. The Rainmakers growled at the display anyway and stepped closer to their winglord, though a dismissive flick from Starscream’s wings settled them down a little.

“Starscream,” Optimus greeted graciously, waving a hand for his mechs to stand down, “I assume you are here to see our medic?”

“I am,” Starscream confirmed, “May we walk to your medbay without being accosted?”

“Of course,” Optimus looked to the rest of the Autobots and sent out a quick message that everyone had better keep to the terms of the peace treaty. “Jazz will take you there.”

“Right this way, m’ mechs.” Jazz gave a little bow before turning to lead the way into the Ark.

Starscream strutted his way after the Autobot super spy, trying to project as much confidence and bravado as he could muster even in the face of glares and suspicious looks from the Autobots they passed. They could hate him as much as they wished, but true to the Prime’s word, none of them raised a weapon or tried to attack.

“So, what do ya need to see our lovely Ratchet for?” Jazz asked curiously as they walked through the Ark’s orange hallways.

“None of your business,” Starscream grumbled, “Though I’m sure everyone will find out anyway once I’m done.”

“You bring them along for moral support, or they need to see the Doc too?” Jazz pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards the Rainmakers.

“We are here to protect and guard our sacred Winglord.” Sunstorm said solemnly.

“There might be a ceasefire on, but that doesn’t mean we trust all of you Autobots.” Acid Storm noted. “Wasn’t going to let our leader walk into your base without somebody at his back.”

“What they mean is that they’re all just a bunch of worry warts.” Starscream noted with a roll of his optics.

Fortunately, their arrival at the medbay ended any further attempts at conversation. Jazz keyed open the door to reveal the irritated visage of Ratchet. The medic looked between all of the mechs gathered at his door before focusing on Starscream.

“Alright, Starscream. What is so important you had to see me about it?” Ratchet asked, clearly not thrilled about being called in to examine the new Decepticon leader.

Starscream steeled himself for what he was about to say, figuring there was no time like the present to break the news. “I am carrying, and I need a real medic to see to the health of my sparklings.”

The shocked silence which followed that announcement was incredibly satisfying, and Starscream couldn’t keep a smirk off his face. Even Ratchet looked taken aback.

“You expect me to believe that?” Ratchet commented after he recovered, “It’s well known that your frametype doesn’t have gestation systems.”

“That’s what I thought, but I’m not gaining weight because I like struggling on takeoff.” Starscream indicated his increased waistline with a casual wave. “Soundwave said he can sense the newsparks as well. So just look me over and see what’s going on.”

There were fairly few reasons for Cybertronians to start putting on protoform weight only in their abdomen, so Ratchet just sighed and waved the seeker into the medbay. “Alright, come in and I’ll take a look. The rest of you, out.”

Skywarp and Thundercracker looked ready to protest, but Starscream pushed them out of the medbay. “Go, I’ll be fine. You can guard me from outside the door, I swear.”

“Alright, up on the medberth.” Ratchet patted the berth in the center of the room before turning away to get a scanner off of the counter. “I’m going to start with a basic scan, see if I can pick up on any extra spark signatures.”

It was very satisfying to see Ratchet’s optics go wide when his scanner returned the inevitable results. 

“Well, you certainly do seem to be carrying.” Ratchet was forced to admit. “Hard to tell, but I’m picking up signs of several newsparks. Let me take a closer look at your gestation system, make sure everything is developing properly. Do you have any idea of how far along you are?”

Starscream thought back to the drunken orgy he and his seekers had shared, having pinpointed that as the most likely moment of conception. “About six lunar cycles.”

“I see,” Ratchet plugged in to Starscream’s medical port and started looking through his recent system changes. “It looked like your gestation systems have initiated as normal. Necessary materials are being gathered in your gestation chamber, and assembly systems have just begun on frame construction. For six Earth months, especially carrying multiples, I would expect you to be heavier by this point. How had your diet been recently?”

“My energon consumption has doubled.” Starscream noted, not liking the observation that he apparently should be even larger.

“What about Cybertronian metals and supplements?” Ratchet inquired, moving on to look over Starscream’s midsection. He ignored the angry hiss as he pressed his fingers against the exposed protoform gently.

“And where am I supposed to get that?” Starscream covered up his worry that he might have hampered the development of his sparklings with irritation. “And stop poking me!”

“You wanted to be looked at by a medic, and you’re getting it.” Ratchet retorted. “Now, you need to remove some of your abdominal armor. It’s pressing against your gestation chamber.”

The last thing Starscream wanted was to expose himself even more, but knew he needed to defer to the medic in this case. He released the catches on his abdominal armor plates and tugged them off. His protoform was now allowed to bulge out unimpeded into a gentle curve, and Starscream had to admit that having the pressure removed did feel much better.

“So? Are my sparklings okay?” Starscream insisted.

“So far, your systems look fine. Your spark is strong, and doesn’t show signs of strain from supporting the newsparks. Spark signatures haven’t quite individualized yet, but that’s to be expected.” Ratchet observed. “You should continue to sparkmerge with the sire, to contribute more energy to the newsparks. Transfluid donations should also continue, and you need to start consuming more metal with your energon. I’ll give you some supplements to add to your energon that I have here, it should tide you over until I can manufacture more.”

Starscream nodded, wings relaxing now that he knew that his sparklings were okay. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Now, I do want to say that I don’t have much experience with the seeker frametype. Certainly, I’ve never observed one of your kind through carrying,” Ratchet warned him. “According to all of my training and medical texts, seeker frames aren’t even supposed to have the right equipment.”

“Our current guess is that it is an ability only the Winglord has.” Starscream noted. “Unfortunately, not much of our cultural knowledge survived the bombing of Vos.”

“There’s a lot of things we’ve lost in this pit-slag war.” Ratchet noted as he went to a cabinet and pulled out a cube that glittered with minerals and metals. “For all our sakes, I hope you’re serious about peace.”

“I want these sparklings to know Cybertron. To see a new Vos. Not war.” Starscream accepted the cube of supplements and subspaced it.

Ratchet nodded, a hint of a smile on his face now. “I’d like to see that too. Now, add a scoop of that to every cube of energon you drink. I’ll comm you when I have more. I’ll want to examine you again anyway, to see how the sparklings are developing.”

Starscream nodded and pinged the medic his comm frequency before slipping off the berth and walking to the door. It slid open at his command, and Starscream was almost immediately tackled by a blur of gold and orange.

“Gah! Sunstorm, get off!” Starscream attempted to extract himself from the grasp of his over-excited clone, but Sunstorm was surprisingly tenacious. And, of course, the other seekers were too busy laughing to help.

“What a happy day, brother, to hear that you are sparked!” Sunstorm cheered joyfully. He bent down to nuzzle his nose against Starscream’s belly, clicking to the developing sparklings within, “The first clutch of seekers since Vos fell, truly this is a time to celebrate!”

“Alright, come on Sun, give him some room to vent.” Acid Storm stepped forward to pull his trinemate off their Winglord, though he needed the assistance of Ion Storm to get Sunstorm to actually let go.

“We are going to celebrate, though, right?” Ion Storm looked to Starscream with hope in his optics, keeping his hold on Sunstorm’s wing with both hands. “I mean, there’s going to be seekerlings again. After so long.”

“Yes, yes, we can celebrate.” Starscream would never turn down a chance to party in his name. “When we get back to the Nemesis.”

“So it’s true, ya really are carrying,” Jazz spoke up from where he was leaning against the wall, exercising that unique Special Ops ability to be forgotten about whenever they wished. “I thought ya looked a little thicker about the middle. No wonder ya offed Megatron.”

“What of it?” Starscream gave in to his urge to wrap his arms around himself, protecting and shielding the sparklings.

“Just saying,” Jazz held up his hands, “I think it’ll be real nice to have sparklings running around again. Maybe you’ll inspire others ta follow yer path and think about things other than war.”

Starscream didn’t have anything to say to that, so instead he just gathered his seekers around him and headed for the exit. He had no doubt that word of his condition would spread through both armies by the next day, but he still wanted to get out of the Ark before any other Autobots could confront him.

Clearly, someone in his little group had been in radio contact with others back at the Nemesis (Starscream suspected Sunstorm), because as soon as the docking tower opened into the control room Starscream found himself being swarmed by seekers.

The room was filled with trilling and chirping as the Vosians gathered around, a rainbow of wings waving the message of excitement over the news that their Lord was with spark. Starscream fought his way through the crowd with an attempt at his usual irritableness, though even he couldn’t stay angry in the face of so much positive attention. Thundercracker and Skywarp stayed close to his side, a possessive hand on each wing reminding everyone present that Starscream was _theirs_, as they slowly waded through the over-enthusiastic jets and out of the control room. It was time to take this celebration to a slightly more private venue.

Relocating themselves to the abandoned hanger that the seekers had repurposed into their own group barracks, Starscream settled himself down into his favorite throne-like chair and magnanimously allowed his seekers to approach him. And approach they did, all of them wanting to stroke his belly and rub his wings. The majority of them had never seen a carrying mech before, since no Cybertronian had been dumb enough to reproduce with a vicious civil war on, and seekers had rarely left Vos before the war’s start.

Starscream himself had seen carrying mechs and sparklings before, during his time attending the Science Academy at Iacon, but only from a distance. Certainly, he’d never imagined one day being in their place.

Having the fawning adoration of his seekers wasn’t so bad. Starscream leaned back, interfacing array starting to come online as the petting turned a little less platonic and a little more arousing. He let out a happy groan and pressed his wings further into the eager servos that were massaging them.

“You look so good, I’m tempted to take you here and now,” Thundercracker rumbled into Starscream’s audial, fingers teasing the other seeker’s wing joints.

“You’d better keep to that promise,” Starscream shot back, “The medic said I’m supposed to get plenty of sparkmerging and transfluid donations. For the sparklings.”

“Now those are the kind of Doctor’s orders I like to hear!” Skywarp crowed from Starscream’s lap. With a flash of purple, he, Thundercracker, and Starscream relocated to one of the berths against the walls. Skywarp wasted no time in nudging Starscream’s legs open, scooting himself down until he could press his face between his trine-leader’s thighs. Skywarp licked at Starscream’s modesty panel until it slid aside to let lubricant pour out onto Skywarp’s glossa.

Thundercracker gathered Starscream into his lap as Skywarp worked at his valve, claws exploring every surface and seam of Starscream’s chest plating as he writhed between his two wingmates. More fingers joined the fun down at Starscream’s thrusters, a flash of mottled green plating indicating the presence of Acid Storm. Then there was a mouth sucking on his wingtip, and Skywarp had shifted to sink his spike into the soft, wet valve he had been working on, and Sunstorm was suddenly there to take Skywarp from behind even as the purple seeker started to thrust his hips, and Starscream lost all ability to even think coherently.

Other seekers played all around, waiting their turn to contribute to the sparklings their Winglord carried. A scream came from the next berth over where Cloudburst was sandwiched between Rainfall and Downdraft, and somewhere behind them binary spilled from Bitstream’s mouth as Hotlink rutted into him. This time, they had remembered to lock the hanger door behind them, and with no Megatron to worry about, there was nothing to interrupt the seekers as they continued on all night until passing out from exhaustion.

Starscream awoke feeling warm and satisfied. He was buried under a pile of jets, a position starting to become rather familiar to him. He was still on top of Thundercracker, a solid, snoring presence underneath him despite Skywarp laying across his face. Starscream squinted at the neon green wing directly in his line of vision, trying to decide if it belonged to Acid Storm or Cloudburst when a voice spoke up near his elbow.

“Morning, Starscream,” There was Acid Storm, a cube of energon in his hands. Well, that answered the question of who was laying on top of him. “Here, thought you might need to refuel.”

Starscream did his best to shift around until he could sit semi-upright, taking the cube from his subordinate and sipping at it slowly. There was a grumble from below him as Thundercracker objected to his moving, a blue and black arm come up to wrap securely around his middle as red optics flickered online.

“I can’t stay here all day, you know.” Starscream informed his wingmate, though he was sorely tempted to do just that. “You look ridiculous, by the way.”

Thundercracker let out a soft snort as he shoved Skywarp off of him with his free arm. The black and purple seeker just twitched and rolled over onto Rainfall. “What if I don’t want you to leave?” The arm around Starscream’s waist tightened just a little.

“Someone has to run things around here.” Starscream gave his legs a tug, trying to free them from underneath the pile of yellow plating at his feet. Sunstorm or Downdraft? Starscream let his flight engines rumble in warning, giving the other seeker a quick kick, and received a sudden blast of heat to his ankles as the culprit came online. Sunstorm then. “Come on, get off. I’ve got an army to surpervise.”

“Mmm,” Sunstorm managed to get a grip on his spark ability as he booted up, the radiation that flared from his plating fading back to something more manageable. He did not, however, shift from where he was pinning Starscream’s pedes to the berth. “Or you could stay here and allow us to handle everything for you, brother. A carrying Winglord is meant to be pampered and protected.”

Being pampered endlessly by his forces did sound nice. . .then Starscream remembered the sort of chaos unsupervised Decepticons could get up to and resumed his efforts to get out of the berth. After a few shoves, Cloudburst slid off him with a grumble to curl up at his side instead. “Yes, yes, you can pamper me after our new base is complete.”

Sunstorm let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a whine, unwilling to move from his perch, “But the Winglord is meant to relax and focus on nurturing the next generation during this time.”

Starscream paused, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glared down at his clone. “And how would you know?” Though Sunstorm was, for all intents and purposes, an adult mech, he had been grown by Shockwave from a sample of Starscream’s spark and hadn’t even been online to see Vos before it fell.

“I went to see the remains of Vos and managed to salvage some writing from one of the ruined temples.” Sunstorm finally shifted to look at Starscream with a little confusion. “Isn’t this common knowledge?”

“Tell me everything you know.”

Everything that Sunstorm knew turned out to be not much more than Starscream had managed to puzzle out for himself, but it was at least good to have his suspicions confirmed. The Winglord did indeed possess the unique ability among seekers to carry sparklings, and would produce a new clutch every few vorns depending on population and energon resources. During a carrying cycle, attendant seekers would protect their Lord and tend to his every need. Unfortunately, any history more detailed than that had been lost with the destruction of Vos.

Petting his midsection idly, Starscream wondered just how many sparklings a “clutch” entailed anyway. Most frametypes, he knew, typically had one sparkling at a time. There were a few that were known to carry more, Starscream had heard of broods up to four, but those weren’t as common. A Winglord trying to reproduce on behalf of an entire city must carry more than that, even though a number of seekers had continued to be cold-constructed up until the bombing. Starscream himself had been a cold-construct, an experimental spark from an attempt to force faster processors, more speed, more intelligence into a seeker frame. He’d been the only of his batch to actually integrate spark and frame properly, the others guttering due to the stress of the experiment, but more normally manufactured batches usually numbered between 15 and 30. Always in multiples of threes, of course.

Things to figure out later. Starscream had no intention of sitting around on his aft for the rest of his carrying, even if other Winglords before him had. Not while there was an armistice to negotiate, construction to supervise, and a dead planet to revive.

“You can pamper me all you want once we’re back on Cybertron.” Starscream announced. “For now, I am your Winglord and I order you to let me up”

Reluctantly, the seekers moved aside and allowed Starscream to get off the berth. He dropped by the washracks to get himself cleaned up (which turned into another eager bought of interfacing) before laying out orders for the day. Any Decepticons with building experience or skills were sent to assist with the new base, while others were tasked with cleaning up the Nemesis and preparing to make the move to their new location. Anything that needed to be saved, like computer terminals, navigation equipment, and communications had to be carefully disassembled and boxed up to be put back together later.

Delicate work like that was best left to those with technical experience under the supervision of Soundwave. Starscream kept an eye on proceedings until he felt Skywarp starting to get bored with it all. A bored Skywarp usually meant that pranks and shenanigans would be soon to follow. Since Starscream’s wingmates refused to leave his side, despite Starscream’s insistence that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, that meant it was time for all three of them to get out of the Nemesis for a bit. It would be good to check up on the work on the new base and make sure Decepticons and Autobots were still managing to work together without killing each other.

Fortunately, the construction crews were too busy designing and building to be at eachother’s throats. There was plenty of ribbing and deprecating remarks about the other faction’s decorating sense (or lack thereof) but it was only spurring the architects on. Starscream and Prime did have to step in when an argument broke out over whether the new base would be purple or orange, so now the new building was being painted blue.

Of course, Prime kept giving him funny looks the entire time, the cause of which Starscream had little doubt about. The news about his condition was out, he was going to have to get used to being stared at.

“Allow me to congratulate you, Starscream,” Prime offered once the bickering construction crews had been sent back to work. “I was pleasantly surprised to get the news of your carrying. It has been too long since any of us have seen a sparkling. You and your wingmates must be very excited.”

A hint of a smile showed on Starscream’s lips, so different from his usual smirk. “Oh, they are. Those two won’t even leave me alone for a minute. They’re just waiting for you to do something to me so they can rip you apart.” Indeed, Thundercracker and Skywarp were standing not far away, two pairs of red optics focused on the leaders with laser precision.

Optimus Prime just laughed, as though he hadn’t been threatened at all, “Yes, sire programming can do that to a mech. Don’t worry, you can tell your mates that I promise no harm will come to you or the little one.”

“Little ones,” Starscream corrected absently, watching as Grapple and Hook put their heads together to scheme over a set of blueprints. That would probably need intervention at some point, “Your medic confirmed I am having multiples, though we aren’t sure how many as of yet.”

“That is something to be excited about.” Optimus Prime’s blue optics crinkled in a way that indicated he was probably smiling like a sap under his mask. “I’m afraid I never got to learn much about the seeker frametype before the war, I wasn’t sure if you were inclined to larger broods or not.”

“We didn’t have much contact with grounders before the war. The Functionists made sure of that.” A tinge of bitterness crept into Starscream’s voice.

“I am sorry for how your people were treated back then.” Optimus Prime said solemnly, “As we rebuild Cybertron, we will have a chance to correct that system. No more Functionism, no more prejudice based on frametype, everyone given equal opportunity to live.”

“You sound like Megatron. Back in the old days.” Starscream said a little wistfully, reminded of just what had drawn him to the Decepticon cause in the first place.

Fortunately, Optimus wasn’t offended to be compared to his former enemy. “Yes, I suppose I do. There was a time I attended all of Megatron’s speeches. Before he turned so violent and power-hungry I could not support him.”

“Well, he’s gone now.” Starscream shrugged. He had respected Megatron once, they all had. Eagerly gathered around the old miner turned gladiator as he stood high and talked of equality, the fall of the Senate, and energon for all.

“Yes, it’s time to look towards the future.” Prime said with his usual gravitas before shaking his head and going down to stop the argument that seemed to be forming between Hook and Grapple.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the reoccurring clashes between construction crews, the new base came together surprisingly quickly. All of the Decepticons were more than eager to leave the cramped, decaying confines of the Nemesis for the roomier accommodations of the new base. There were enough rooms that no one would have to share unless they wished, the hallways were large and well lit without rust or puddles of seawater, and the berths were covered in a soft padding that the Autobots traded with the humans for. Skywarp flopped down on the large berth in the Command Trine’s new, expansive quarters and declared that he never wanted to get up again.

Starscream scoffed until he sat down on the berth as well, the soft padding wringing a moan from his vocalizer. That was really, really nice. Especially on his joints, which had begun to ache as the weight of the sparklings increased. The combination of consuming rich supplements with his energon and frequent interfacing meant that he’d been putting on weight surprisingly quickly. A seeker’s lithe, aerodynamic frame wasn’t meant to be carrying around so much extra tonnage, with the result that Starscream was always sore by the end of a day walking about supervising the moving and construction on base.

The upside was getting massages from his wingmates at the end of every day. Starscream purred as Thundercracker slowly moved over him, kissing and nipping at stressed joints and cabling. Skywarp joined in from behind, pressing both hands into the small of Starscream’s back, right below his wings where the strain of growing sparklings tugged the most. Starscream melted against his trinemates as they attended to him, both hands rubbing over the curve of his belly in what was becoming a regular unconscious gesture.

“So,” Skywarp grinned and paused in nibbling his way up the leading edge of Starscream’s wing. “How about we christen the new berth?”

“For once, I think Skywarp has a good idea,” Thundercracker teased, ignoring the offended ‘HEY’ he got in response. He rubbed one hand down between Starscream’s legs, stroking the seams in silver thighs until there was a click and damp warmth filled his palm. Slipping one digit into Starscream’s soft folds, Thundercracker kept his gaze on his trine-leader’s face. Starscream’s dark facial plating was flushed and his optics were squeezed tightly shut as his cooling fans whirred to life. This was a side of Starscream that only his wingmates got to see. No haughty smirk on his faceplates, no one else to perform for, just him lost in the pleasure that Skywarp and Thundercracker gave him.

Thundercracker removed his hand and slid his spike slowly into Starscream, savoring the little whimpers and breathless pleas that he got in return. The Winglord had been working so hard lately, supervising all the new construction, the moving of bases, and making sure that none of the Decepticons got it into their heads to start things with an Autobot. Though most ‘Cons were not particularly afraid of Starscream, they were cautious about the flock of seekers backing him up and definitely didn’t want to piss off Soundwave. One or two particularly stupid mechs had already tried to get physical with the Communications Officer and received a harsh reminder that Soundwave had also once been a gladiator in the pits alongside Megatron. It was just as well that the new base was fully equipped with a brig.

But none of that mattered tonight, when it was just Starscream and his trine alone in their new quarters. Thundercracker fell into a gentle rhythm, doing his best to reach deeper and deeper with each thrust. Then he felt an intrusion alongside his spike, and looked up to meet Skywarp’s mischievous optics. The black and purple seeker had slipped a finger into Starscream’s valve around Thundercracker’s spike. Starscream let out a cry when a second joined the first, internal temperature continuing to rise as he tried to seat himself down firmer over the spike and fingers inside him.

Thundercracker wasn’t so sure about this, they had been trying to interface more gently since finding out that Starscream was carrying, but Skywarp gave his trinemate a wink and wiggled his hips to get Starscream’s aft a little firmer onto his cockpit.

Purple fingers were removed and a second spike was pressed against his entrance instead, making Starscream gasp and twist to try and see what was happening. “Skywarp, what are you-!”

“Shhhh,” Skywarp shushed him, easing his way inside his trine-leader alongside Thundercracker. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not as far as I can- mmmmph-!” Starscream’s rant was abruptly cut off when Thundercracker leaned forward to capture his lips with his own, swallowing his angry words.

“Just relax,” Skywarp crooned, gently rubbing the outside of his valve and encouraging the calipers inside to loosen their tight grip. Gradually, he was able to slip further and further inside, spike rubbing up against Thundercracker’s in a way that had the blue seeker gasping along with their trine-leader. It was a tight fight, very tight, but as Skywarp predicted, once Starscream unclenched he was perfectly capable of taking them both. “There we go.”

Skywarp rocked against Starscream, returning to his earlier task of nibbling the leading edge of his trine-leader’s wing. There was no chance of getting a good thrusting rhythm going, not with two spikes stuffed into one valve, but the little wiggles he could manage were more than enough. Starscream was soon a panting, writhing mess between his two wingmates as they rocked their hips and ran their fingers over all his sensitive seams and wires. His chest plating gave a loud click as it opened and folded away, revealing the brightly burning corona of his spark with the hazy, fainter glow of the sparklings circling it slowly. Thundercracker stared for a moment, transfixed by the sight, before his own plating folded back and he lowered his spark to touch his trine-leader’s.

A single, hard pulse of energy was all it took to send Starscream over the edge, screaming as he clung on to Thundercracker like he was the only life-line in a storm. Starscream’s overload swept across Thundercracker and Skywarp as well, a wave of pleasure engulfing all three seekers until they were left panting and exhausted on the berth. Starscream slumped between his two wingmates, the intensity of his overload having knocked him offline and into recharge.

He groaned softly as Thundercracker and Skywarp carefully pulled out of him, but did not wake as he was wiped off and settled onto the berth. The other two seekers quickly cleaned themselves up as well before curling up with their trine-leader protectively cuddled between them.

Thundercracker pressed himself up against Starscream’s back, strong arms coming around to gently cradle the curve of the sparklings. He was still in awe of them, they all were, and he couldn’t help but think of them as a miracle from Primus. Because of them, the war was over now. No more living on a half-full tank, or being drug out of recharge by blaring attack alarms, or worrying over which day would be their last. They could go fly whenever they wanted without having to worry about being shot down, fuel to their spark’s content, and soon. Soon, a new generation of seekers would be born. Thundercracker gave a happy hum and snuggled a little closer. He couldn’t wait.

Gradually, both Autobots and Decepticons got used to occasionally seeing members of the other factions in their bases. Insults were called, and a few fist fights had broken out, but thankfully no shots had been fired. Things were going surprisingly. .. peacefully, all things concerned.

Still, that didn’t stop some Autobots from glaring rather distrustfully when an entire wing of seekers marched into the Ark. Starscream had given up on trying to curb the protective tendencies of his kin and figured that letting the seekers not currently assigned to tasks trail around behind him was better than allowing them to let off their frustrations in other ways.

Starscream had attempted to request that Ratchet come out to the new ‘Con base, but the medic refused to perform check-ups outside of his own medbay. Since there was no way Starscream was going to trust the health of himself and the sparklings to the Constructicons, he had little choice but to visit the Ark again.

He could, however, do without the hordes of Autobots goggling at him. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about it, the idiots.

“Damn, Screamer’s gotten fat.” One of them stage-whispered, obviously intending his words to be heard. Sunstorm hissed in response and hiked his wings to try and shield his Winglord from their stares with little effect.

“Nah, didn’t you hear, he’s knocked up!” Another answered back with amusement.

“Ew, who’d clang chests with Screamer?” The first one sneered, prompting Sunstorm to try to physically wipe the expression off his stupid faceplates. Fortunately, his trinemates caught him before he could actually go through with it.

Not that it stopped the mini-bot from pulling a blaster and shouting, “Hey! That con tried to come for me!”

“If he did, it’s only because you’re a complete moron, Cliffjumper.” A new voice joined in, Ratchet leaning in the door of his Medbay with a wrench held threateningly in one servo. “And if you get your tailpipe handed to you because you were verbally riling up seekers running under strong protective protocols, I’ll weld your aft to the brig floor. Now get!”

One last glare and Cliffjumper, along with the other assorted lookie-loos, scrambled off to find better things to do.

“And you!” Ratchet turned his gaze on Starscream, though his blue optics weren’t nearly as harsh, “In! Let’s have a look at you.”

Starscream raised his helm proudly and swept into the med bay with a flick of his wings as though he hadn’t been ordered inside. “Don’t go bothering any Autobots, no matter how stupid they are,” Was his last command to his seekers before he left them to guard the door.

“Well then, the sparklings certainly seem to be growing well.” Ratchet commented as he watched Starscream get up onto the berth.

“Yes, thank you,” Starscream bit out, well aware that he was nowhere near as graceful as he would like to be. Strap an extra couple of tons of weight to the medic and see how he looked getting up onto a medical slab.

“It’s a good thing, really,” Ratchet smirked at the annoyed expression on the seeker’s face, “You’re looking a bit big for how far along you are, but I’d rather that then you being undersized.”

Wonderful, so he’d gone from not fat enough to too fat. There was no winning. Starscream crossed his arms, “Are you going to examine me or mock me?”

Ratchet snorted, a surprisingly expressive sound, but fortunately refrained from further comment on his weight. Instead, he just gestured for the seeker to lay back on the berth, “Now then, those sparklings should be developed enough to tell how many there are. Open up your chest plating.”

It wasn’t the first time he had exposed his spark for the Autobot Medic, but it still took Starscream a moment of internal struggle to initiate the commands to fold his chest armor aside. His spark-light illuminated Ratchet’s lined face from underneath, and Starscream really didn’t like the way the medic’s optics widened at the sight.

“What?” Starscream looked down, but it was a nigh impossible task for a mech to look inside his own chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ratchet reassured, turning away to pick up some sort of portable scanner. “I just need to get a better look.”

The scanner was turned on and waved over Starscream’s chest, Ratchet flipping through different filters on the screen to see past the bright corona that circled his spark. Starscream really, really didn’t appreciate the frown that crept over the medic’s face. “What is it?!”

“Well, if I’m seeing things right,” Ratchet put the scanner aside, “I’d say you have twelve newsparks in your chamber.”

Outside the medbay, Thundercracker and Skywarp were casually leaning against the wall on either side of the door when the loud, screeching voice of their Trine-leader shaking the walls made them leap away in surprise.

“TWELVE?!”

The seekers all stared at each other, Skywarp giving a shrug before they turned back towards the door.

Inside, Starcream had snatched the spark scanner and was staring at the read-outs himself, counting the little bright spots of light that swirled around his spark. Unfortunately, Ratchet was right. “Twelve sparklings?!”

“That’s certainly what it seems like.” Ratchet gently extracted his scanner from the seeker’s claws before the delicate piece of equipment could be crushed. “Now I’ve never seen such a large brood-“

“Of course not!” Starscream cut him off. “How are that many even supposed to fit in me?”

“I think you’ll find your gestation chamber is stretchier than you think.” Ratchet said wryly, “Though you’ll probably have to be on berth-rest for the end of it. That is. . . an unusually large number of sparklings, but given the lack of any records on seeker gestation, we might have to trust that your body knows what it’s doing.”

Starscream had, admittedly, suspected such a thing. As the only seeker capable of carrying, surely, he must have large broods in order to provide for his entire race, but _still_. Sparklings were small, but to have twelve of them growing inside him. He was going to end up _enormous_.

Ratchet gave Starscream another supply of supplements to last him until his next check-up, greatly increasing the amount now that he knew just how many protoforms the seeker’s body needed to build. His instructions were to basically eat and fuel as much as he physically could, in addition to interfacing as often as he was up for. In short, he was being ordered to live in absolute hedonism. Starscream thanked the medic and walked out, fully intending to get his seekers to wait on him hand and foot, until a very nostalgic voice filled the hallway.

“Hello, Ratchet? I wanted to know if I could borrow your- . .. Starscream?!”

All of the jets turned to see an enormous white shuttle turn the corner and stop in surprise before the medbay. Starscream’s hand came up to cover his mouth and his knees felt weak as he looked at his oldest friend, caught between throwing his arms around the shuttle and never letting him go, or shooting Skyfire for abandoning him for the Autobots.

Fortunately, Skyfire made the decision for him. Moving surprisingly quickly, the shuttle dashed forward and swept Starscream up into his giant arms. Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the other seekers stared in shock before their protective protocols took over and they attempted to extract their Winglord from the interloper. They couldn’t do anything particularly violent without risking Starscream, and Skyfire hardly seemed to notice their claws scratching at his thick armor. He was far too concerned with holding the jet in his arms close, as though Starscream might suddenly vanish should he let him go.

Before long, though, Starscream’s prickly nature won out and he kicked his thrusters against Skyfire’s abdominal plating, “Let me down!”

Reluctantly, Skyfire did set him back onto his pedes, stepping back to give the seeker his space once he found his balance again. The other seekers immediately closed ranks, placing themselves protectively between their Lord and Skyfire, but that only seemed to irritate Starscream more.

“Get back, you idiots.” Starscream pushed his wingmates aside, though his voice sounded suspiciously choked up.

“Sorry,” Skyfire at least had the good grace to look sheepish, blue optics fixed on Starscream as he ducked his helm under the weight of his stare. “I just- I heard you ended the war? No more fighting?”

“An armistice, yes,” Starscream managed, the quivering of his wings betraying his nerves.

“Then, maybe we could-?” Skyfire’s face was ridiculously hopeful, and Starscream couldn’t help but notice that the Autobot sigil was missing from his chest.

“Hey! He’s _our_ mate!” Skywarp possessively wrapped an arm over Starscream’s wing, his other hand coming around to press against his trine-leader’s belly, “Carrying _our_ sparklings. You can’t have him!”

Skyfire’s gaze dropped down to Starscream’s midsection, optics going comically wide. “No, I didn’t mean- I- We’re working on upgrading human solar panels in the lab and I thought you might like to come be my lab partner again.”

Thundercracker pried Skywarp off of their trine-leader, realizing that Skyfire was not, in fact, trying to preposition Starscream. They stayed close by, of course, ready to protect if needed, but it was not their job to choose Starscream’s friends for him.

“Lab?” Starscream’s optics brightened and his wings gave an excited twitch. It had been a very long time since he’d been able to really indulge his scientific interests, since Megatron had found him much more useful as an Air Commander and sometimes- punching bag than a scientist. Being appreciated for his knowledge, working alongside Skyfire again, sounded very tempting indeed. “What are you doing with these solar panels?”

“Trying to improve their efficiency and energon output in preparation to work under Cybertron’s new star.” Skyfire noted, succinctly summing up what himself, Wheeljack, and Perceptor had been working on since the ceasefire.

“Lead the way!” Starscream ordered, interest officially piqued. He trotted down the hall after Skyfire, the rest of the seekers trailing behind them. He drew the line, though, at having them all troop into the science lab after him. The last thing Starscream needed while working was Skywarp getting bored and poking around, knowing him he’d probably blow up the entire Ark.

“Alright, shoo,” Starscream gave his hands a dismissive flick as Skyfire keyed open the door to the lab. The seekers shifted nervously, but didn’t leave.

“But we can’t leave you alone.” Ion Storm protested, picking at his claws as he fretted over the very idea of his Winglord unprotected with several Autobots.

“Yeah, what if one of those Autobots tries something?” Skywarp sneered at the very idea. Next to him, Thundercracker’s engines grumbled and vibrated the walls around him.

“Stop that!” Starscream snapped before his trinemates could wreck anything.

“I won’t let anything happen to Starscream,” Skyfire promised in that incredibly earnest way he had.

“Yeah, like we’d be believe the word of a traitor,” Skywarp snarled. He remembered only too well how distraught Starscream had been when Skyfire left, how badly Megatron had beat him for promising a new warrior only to have the shuttle abandon them for the Autobots instead.

“That’s enough!” Starscream ordered. “Sunstorm, can you alter your radiation to mimic that of Cybertron’s star?”

“Um, yes?” Sunstorm was rather surprised to suddenly be addressed.

“Good, then you can come in. We’ll be able to use you to test the solar panels. The rest of you, go find something to do with yourselves. You’ll only get in the way in the lab.” Starscream grabbed Sunstorm and tugged him into the lab before anyone else could protest. Skyfire gave the seekers an apologetic shrug before following and letting the door shut behind him.

The remaining four seekers looked at each other helplessly, desire to guard their Winglord at odds with his orders to leave.

“Aren’t you a scientist?” Skywarp asked, looking at Acid Storm, “You should go in there too!” Because Skywarp didn’t particularly want to sit and watch a bunch of egghead types do science-y stuff, it sounded incredibly boring, but he wasn’t sure the nutso Sunstorm and that traitor shuttle were enough to protect Starscream.

“I’m a chemist,” Acid Storm corrected, holding up his hands. “I don’t know the first thing about rewiring electronic stuff.”

Skywarp turned his attention to Ion Storm, who cringed and sidled behind his trine-leader slightly, “I’m better at breaking electronics than fixing them. Equipment tends not to appreciate my electrical discharges much.”

“He’ll be fine, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker settled a soothing hand on Skywarp’s shoulder. “Sunstorm is more than capable of taking care of any Autobot. And the second you or I feel anything wrong, you can teleport in there and start kicking aft.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Skywarp gradually calmed down, warm air hissing from his vents as he drew a few cooling breaths into his frame. “You’re right. Besides, they’re a bunch of geeks. What’s the worst they can do?”

Starscream had been so distracted by Skyfire, and excited by the thought of applying himself to a scientific project again, he had rather forgotten that there would be other Autobots to deal with. He was abruptly reminded of that fact when he stepped into the lab to find Perceptor and Wheeljack staring at him in surprise.

“Uh, hey there Starscream.” Wheeljack, always the friendly one, got over the shock first. “What’re you doing here?”

“Starscream is here to help us with the solar panels.” Skyfire explained, desperately hoping that they could get back to working without any drama.

“Oh?” Perceptor looked up from his soldering with an expression of faint curiosity. “Starscream, I was unaware that you had a background in science.”

“Why?” Starscream bit out, plating flaring in anger, “Because a seeker is too stupid to be anything more than a flying gun? Because our poor processors can’t handle anything so complicated as science?”

Next to him, Skyfire cringed. Now this was very familiar, Starscream had always reacted in exactly the same way at the Academy when mechs (loudly and rudely) questioned what business a _seeker_ had at Iacon’s foremost school of science.

Sunstorm stepped forward, hands rising to rub at Starscream’s wings in a soothing manner to try and calm him down. Starscream just shrugged him off, though the fury in his EM field subsided somewhat.

Perceptor held up his hands in a placating gesture, optics wide in surprise at the sudden vehement outburst, “No, I of course never meant to imply such a thing. I have simply never heard of you being active in scientific fields during the war, I did not wish to imply anything derogatory towards your frametype.”

The clear apology in his voice made Starscream relax further, hot air escaping from his vents with a quiet hiss. “Yes, well. Megatron valued me more as a warrior than a scientist.”

“Starscream and I were research partners at the Iacon Science Academy,” Skyfire offered, nostalgia and pride in his voice.

“Impressive!” Wheeljack commented sincerely, turning his attention to Sunstorm, “Are you a scientist too?”

“No, he isn’t.” Starscream answered for him. “Sunstorm is a solar-powered fusion reactor. He can alter his radiation output to mimic Cybertron’s Star. We can use him to test the solar panels.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you’re a fusion reactor?” Perceptor leaned forward, fascinated. “Is this a natural Outlier ability, or a later mod? How does it affect your spark? How does-“

“Ah-!” Starscream cut the scientist off before they could get distracted. He knew all too well how hard it was to stop Sunstorm if he got to talking about himself (or Primus, or any other topic). “Science now. You can dissect Sunstorm later.”

“Wait, what?” Sunstorm looked at the other seeker in alarm, but Starscream was already off examining one of the disassembled solar panels.

“If it helps, I don’t think he’s serious,” Skyfire whispered to Sunstorm before moving to assist. Sunstorm just hoped he was right; the gold seeker had had quite enough of scientists messing about with his insides.

Outside the lab, the other four seekers lurked awkwardly. Skywarp itched to go explore the Ark now that he (hopefully) didn’t have to worry about being shot for it, but his programming protested the very thought of getting too far from Starscream. Damn his trine-leader for being so insistent in going off and doing boring things without his wingmates.

“Skywarp, you’re going to drive me crazy,” Thundercracker grumbled, wings twitching as he dealt with the anxious energies coming through the trine-bond from his wingmate. “Go outside and go for a flight or something.”

“But- but Starscream is in there!” Skywarp protested, pacing the hallway.

“Yes, he is.” Thundercracker’s protective protocols were screaming at him as well, though he was able to handle it slightly better than his wingmate. “And he’s completely fine. Does he feel like something’s wrong?”

Begrudgingly, Skywarp had to admit that Starscream felt quite happy and content. His end of the bond was buzzing with excited science thoughts as he fiddled in the lab, only the barest hints of the anger and frustration that had become so familiar during the war. Skywarp took a moment to stop and just revel in the feeling of Starscream enjoying himself, soothing his drive to protect with the knowledge that his trine-leader was perfectly okay. And so were the sparklings, judging from the faint sensation of peace coming through the bond, from a presence that was separate from Starscream himself.

“I can feel them,” Skywarp murmured, aware that a sappy grin had spread across his faceplate. “The sparklings, I can feel them there with him.”

“And if you feel anything wrong, you can teleport in there and start kicking Autobot aft.” Thundercracker reassured.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Skywarp relaxed by degrees, combat protocols falling back to standby.

“Come on, let’s go outside and go for a flight. Sunstorm will melt anyone who tries anything with Starscream, then you can finish them off.” Thundercracker reasoned, reminding himself that Skywarp could ‘port them into the lab the instant something happened whether they were inside or outside. They might as well get out of the ugly, orange halls of the Ark for a little bit. Starscream could easily get distracted by science for the rest of the day.

“So we just leave Commander Starscream?” Ion Storm glanced at the closed door to the lab, electricity sparking over his plating briefly as he worried over the idea.

“Come on, Ion.” Acid Storm put a hand on his trine-mate’s shoulder. “Sunstorm can take care of Starscream for a little while.”

The four seekers wandered back towards the entrance of the Ark, sensors extended to alert of any Autobot’s approaching. No doubt their paranoid Security Director was watching them through the cameras, the last thing they needed was some jumpy front-liner trying to start something while they were still all keyed up.

Inevitably, they did come across Autobots, though not the ones they were expecting. The seekers were almost out of the starship when five baby jets suddenly blocked their way. Skywarp recognized them as the Aerialbots, the youngling fliers who were only really a threat because of their ability to combine.

“What are you doing here, ‘Cons?” One of the jets demanded, crossing his arms in a way that was almost cute. Sure, the Aerialbots had been cold-constructed in adult frames, but they were still so young by Cybertronian standards. If not for the war, they probably would still be under the care of mentors. It made Skywarp want to pat the little flier on the helm and give him an energon treat.

“Just escorting our Trine-leader here.” Thundercracker answered, nudging Skywarp. They might all be a little sparkling-crazy at the moment, but these were still Autobots. “We have that right.”

“Wait, Starscream is here?” One of the other jets exclaimed, blue optics glittering in excitement. “Air Commander Starscream?” He looked to the little group’s leader and made the most pitiful looking pleading face. “Can we go talk to him, please please please?”

“No, Fireflight.” Their leader was unmoved by the display, keeping his suspicious optics on the seekers in front of him. “I think we all know how trying to talk with Decepticons went last time.”

“Oo, this about stuffing you guys in the Kronosphere?” Skywarp snickered and shrugged, “Eh, it was war. Your side, our side, yannow. No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings?!” The first, angriest jet leapt forward, weapons systems coming online, but was grabbed by his gestalt-mates before he could manage anything.

“Calm down, Slingshot!” Their leader shouted, wrestling the other jet back. “They aren’t worth breaking the ceasefire!”

The seekers didn’t even flinch at the display, Acid Storm only looking to Thundercracker and Skywarp and raising an optical ridge.

“Old drama,” Thundercracker explained casually, watching the Aerialbots try to get their hissing, spitting gestalt-mate back under control with a faint sense of amusement.

“Okay, some hard feelings.” Skywarp casually sauntered past the other jets. “Well, we’re going out for a little flight. It gets awful boring in this base of yours.”

“Can we fly with you!?” One of the jets burst out. His brothers all stared at him. “What? They’re seekers, the best fliers ever! I’ve always wanted to fly with them, and now we can do it without getting shot at.”

Flattery was the easiest way to make peace with seekers. Ion Storm preened and looked at his kin with a smile, “Well, the little jets want to fly with the seekers. I don’t see any reason why not. If they can keep up.”

“Of course we can keep up!” Slingshot stopped struggling so he could better be offended at being called slow. “You just watch!”

With that apparently settled, then, the group of jets trooped outside and took off into the sky.

Flying with the little baby jets was surprisingly enjoyable, Skywarp had to admit. They might even make decent fliers with some training and practice. Ion Storm was playing tag with a few of the faster ones, while Acid Storm was doing his best to keep the easily distracted Fireflight on task trying out flight formations. Thundercracker was flying low, talking over comm with the large, slow form of Silverbolt about something. Skywarp wheeled about, thinking about joining the game of tag, when he felt a sudden flash of anger coming from the trinebond. Instantly, Skywarp teleported to Starscream’s location. Ignoring the surprised yells of the other scientists in the room, the black and purple seeker grabbed his trine-leader and ‘warped back outside.

“What the frag, Skywarp?” Starscream screeched, wiggling free from his trine-mate’s grasp.

“You were upset, so I came to rescue you!” Skywarp said earnestly, “What did those scientists do to you?”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” Starscream denied. Really, he had just gotten a little offended when it was pointed out that he couldn’t stay in the room for the testing. The amount of radiation Sunstorm produced when he unleashed his spark gift was too high to be safe for unborn sparklings. Starscream had only yelled a tiny bit when Skywarp had suddenly popped in and stolen him right out of his lab. “It was just a scientific disagreement. Now put me back!”

“No! You’re tired and you’re hungry, it’s time go back to quarters and relax for the rest of the day.” Skywarp didn’t often put his foot down, but Starscream had a tendency to forget little things like fueling and recharging when he went into science-y mode. That just wouldn’t do this time, considering his condition.

Starscream frowned, but couldn’t deny that he was feeling rather exhausted and in need of fuel. Being bonded meant that his wingmates were sometimes more in tune with his systems than he was. Still, “I can’t just leave, there’s too much to do!”

With a powerful rumble of flight engines, Thundercracker landed beside his trine-mates and rubbed a hand along one of Starscream’s wings soothingly. “What about Bitstream or Hotlink? They’re good at tinkering with things. You have to take some time for yourself. For the sparklings.”

With a scowl, Starscream finally relented and commed for Bitstream and his trine to come assist the Autobot scientists. He then sent Acid Storm and Ion Storm back into the Ark so that poor Sunstorm wasn’t left all alone in the lab wondering what the Pit had happened.

Of course, it was about then that the Aerialbots noticed something was going on and landed as well. They nearly tripped over each other at the sight of Starscream, Decepticon Aerial Commander and Winglord of the seekers, standing there in front of them.

“Oh gosh, it’s really Starscream!” Fireflight said excitedly.

“I would love to talk aerial strategy with you some time, sir.” Skydive said, calmer but no less eager.

Air Raid just looked Starscream up and down critically, “Gee, you look fat. What happened?”

Starscream looked like he was about to explode, or claw the little jet to pieces, if not for his wingmates holding him back.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” Fireflight turned on his gestalt-mate, “He’s, like, pregnant or something! You’re supposed to be nice.”

“I think it’s called carrying.” Silverbolt offered, trying to keep something of a handle on the situation.

“Baby jets,” Fireflight gave a little squee just at the thought.

“How does that even work?” Slingshot questioned.

Starscream immediately decided that he didn’t have the energy or patience to deal with a gestalt spat. “Yes, I am carrying sparklings. You want to know more, go ask your medic.”

Before any more questions could be asked, Starscream ignited his thrusters and took off for the Decepticon Base, his wingmates close behind.

“You sure you’re okay?” Thundercracker questioned once they were safely back into their quarters.

“Fine, fine. Just tired.” Starscream accepted comforting pets from his wingmates and sank down onto their berth. “The medic says I’m carrying twelve sparklings.”

“Twelve!” Skywarp let out an excited trill and pressed himself into Starscream’s side, a hand stroking over his trine-leader’s chest. “That’s so many!”

“That is a lot.” Thundercracker was slightly more worried. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course.” Starscream snorted. “We just have to assume this is supposed to happen, since nobody knows anything about Winglord carrying cycles.” He lay back on the berth, plating relaxing as Skywarp and Thundercracker continued to pet him. His chest felt overly warm and cramped, the sparklings nuzzled up against his spark taking up a lot of space in his chamber. They would separate from his spark and drop down into his gestation chamber to join with their developing protoforms in due time. Until then, he would just have to get used to a crowded spark.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Skywarp wiggled in closer with a purr. “We flew for awhile with those youngling Autobot jets today. They’re kinda cute once they get over themselves. Terrible fliers, though.”

“Dumb Autobots, bringing online flightframes without anyone to teach them.” Starscream snorted. “These sparklings will be fliers befitting the seeker name.”

“Of course they will,” Thundercracker soothed, rubbing Starscream’s sides until the silver seeker groaned and relaxed back into the berth. “They’ll have every single trine doting on them.”

It was an adorable mental image, trines of seekers cooing over little, gangly seeker chicks. Guiding them through their first steps, teaching them to hover, giving them their first flight lessons. Before Starscream knew it, his systems were purring contentedly at the thought. They just had to restore Cybertron first. No big deal, right?


	6. Chapter 6

Things settled into a new normal, everyone working hard on their assigned tasks to prepare for a return to Cybertron. The Autobots had treaties in place with the humans to receive fuel, in addition to the energon they refined themselves via solar power and geothermal energy from the depths of Mt. St. Hilary, which meant that the Decepticon forces were receiving a full ration of fuel for the first time since the war began. That fact alone was enough to keep many of them from breaking the ceasefire, as nobody wanted to be forced back onto half-rations, constantly wondering when they would be able to fuel next.

Starscream continued to assist the Ark science team on energon production when he could, solar panels wouldn’t be enough to support a large population so now they were looking at wind power. Cybertron didn’t have near as thick an atmosphere as Earth did, but it did still have weather patterns. Things were proceeding exceptionally well on that front, especially when Bitstream, Hotlink, and Flashdive joined the team. Hotlink and Wheelack in particular got on like a house on fire, leaving everyone else to clear the blast radius when the pair got their helms together on something. To his irritation, Starscream found himself getting kicked out of the lab for his own safety more than once.

Of course, when Starscream was allowed in the lab, he found himself drifting into recharge at his work station more often than not. The drain on his systems from the sparklings was only growing, which apparently meant recharging longer and more often. Enthusiastic bouts of merging with eager seekers helped with the energy drain, but could only do so much.

It was becoming fairly common for Starscream to online in the late mornings, sandwiched between his wingmates as they huddled over a program playing on a datapad and discussed the media in low voices. One of the unexpected consequences of relocating to an above-ground base was the sudden availability of human media signals. Few had been able to penetrate the deep ocean, but now that they were on land, the Decepticons could pick up all kinds of things flitting about on the airwaves.

Starscream wasn’t terribly surprised to discover Skywarp becoming fond of the human vice of “Television,” but it was odd to see how invested Thundercracker got in it. He would talk off the audials of anyone who would listen about whatever inane show he was into at the time.

“It’s really quite deep,” Thundercracker was explaining to a barely-awake Starscream. “They were elite soldiers, until they were betrayed by their own government and framed for a terrible crime. Now they use their war skills as for-hire mercenaries and help other humans while running from the military.”

“It has lots of fighting and explosions!” Skywarp added in eagerly.

Starscream stared at the screen for a moment, watching a group of squishies yelling at eachother, before flopping back into the berth. He fully intended to shut back down into recharge, but before he could there was a ping on his comm. It was from Soundwave, so he couldn’t just ignore it.

_“Incoming transmission from Cybertron.”_

Starscream groaned and climbed out of the berth, shoving Skywarp and Thundercracker aside. “Come on, we’re getting a call from Cybertron.”

Soundwave was already at the base’s communication hub, standing before a small vid-screen which showed a fuzzy visual of the seeker commander on Cybertron.

“Lieutenant Slipstream,” Starscream greeted with a sharp nod as he strode into the communications center to stand beside Soundwave, “Report.”

“Lord Starscream, Commander Soundwave,” Slipstream gave a sharp salute before relaxing to give her report. Energon was streaked across her frame and her paint was marred by the black scorches of blaster fire, all signs of a very recent battle. “The objective has been achieved; Shockwave is dead. He refused to surrender or to submit to your leadership.”

“Excellent.” It was even better than Starscream could have hoped. “Any casualties on your side?”

“Nacelle suffered a shot to the thruster and Nova Storm has a bent wing, but that’s the worst of it.” Slipstream responded smartly. “Everything else is easily repairable.”

“No trouble cooperating with the Autobot femme squad?” It had taken some fast talking on the parts of both Starscream and Optimus Prime to get the two groups to work together.

“None, sir, past a few initial leadership spats. Their help was essential in the success of the operation.”

“And how soon can you have the Space Bridge operational?”

“Within two cycles, sir. It was not damaged in the attack.”

“Good job, Slipstream,” Starscream complimented, bestowing rare praise on his Lieutenant. “Comm us again once the Space Bridge is ready to activate.”

Slipstream saluted again before the transmission cut out. Starscream sighed and slumped a little, twisting to try and work out a crick in his back strut before turning to Soundwave. “Call up Prime. No doubt his femme has already contacted him about this, but we will need to start coordinating plans for sending materials and mecha through the space bridge.”

Soundwave nodded and started pressing buttons on the comm console. Satisfied that things would be taken care of, Starscream started making his way back to his quarters. He was still tired, slaggit, and his back hurt. He tried to lean back while he walked to better balance himself, but it wasn’t easy. Seekers naturally walked with more of their weight on their toe-pedes, as thruster heels were not intended to carry large amounts of weight for extended periods of time, but Starscream found trying to walk how he was accustomed led to him losing his balance. All the extra mass of the sparklings out in front was throwing off everything.

“You doing alright, Star?” Skywarp asked, watching his trine-leader’s awkward gait with some concern. “Need help?”

“I’m fine!” Starscream insisted, even as his spark flared in its casing. His gestation systems drew hard on his spark energy for a minute, the sparklings pulsing out of time with his own natural spark rate in a way that caused nausea to roll through his frame. Staggering a little, Starscream threw out an arm and leaned against a wall. His other hand clamped over his mouth, determined not to purge.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were immediately there, supporting him with their frames as they helped him back towards their quarters.

“You aren’t fine,” Thundercracker rumbled gently, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the sparklings,” Starscream shook his helm, trying to shake off the dizziness. The moment of nausea had passed, at least, though his chest still felt hot and sore. “They’re getting stronger. Pulsing out of rhythm with my spark.”

“That doesn’t sound comfortable,” Skywarp observed with a grimace, keying open the door to their room.

“It’s not.” Starscream grumbled, gratefully stumbling through the door and over to their berth. Laying down didn’t help with the irritating tingling burn in his spark, but it was better than trying to keep his balance upright. “It’ll pass eventually- ugh.” He curled up a little at the unfamiliar _tugging_ sensation inside him. It felt like his spark was trying to split apart.

Abruptly, Starscream realized that _it was_. Well, sort of anyway. Ratchet had pushed a bunch of files at him about the carrying process, and they all described the process by which the immature sparks would separate from their creator’s spark to descend into the gestation chamber to join with their developing protoforms. What the texts had failed to mention was just how _unpleasant_ it was.

“Star? Starscream?” Thundercracker could feel the faint echoes of what his trine-leader was experiencing through the bond, and it didn’t seem to be just a passing moment of discomfort.

“Call for the medic.” Starscream managed, claws extending and digging into the berth padding as he shuddered against another tug on his spark. It wasn’t exactly _painful_, Starscream had certainly experienced worse in his years at war, but this was a different sort of ache. So deep that there was no way to power through it or pretend it didn’t exist. “The sparklings are. Separating from my spark.”

“What?!” Skywarp shot upright, optics wide and panicking. “Are- are they supposed to do that? Are they coming out right now? I thought we had more time!”

“Calm down, ‘Warp.” Thundercracker put a grounding hand on his trinemate’s shoulder, glad that he had elected to read the files on the carrying process as well. “They’re not coming out, just moving down to their bodies. It’s supposed to happen, it just doesn’t feel good. Just comm for the medic.”

“But he’s a grounder, it’ll take ages for him to get out here!” Supposed to happen or not, Skywarp didn’t like the thought of Starscream in pain. “I’ll just go get him!” With that, he warped out of the room. 

“If the medic slags him, I’m not responsible,” Thundercracker deadpanned, looking at the place where Skywarp had been.

Starscream huffed a brief laugh, before a flash of purple announced their trinemate’s return.

“-weld your fragging wings to your fragging aft, now put me down you-!”

“I got the medic!” Skywarp announced rather unnecessarily, releasing Ratchet from his grip.

“Yes, you got the medic.” Ratchet responded, obviously rather torqued off about getting yanked out of his medbay. “What is so important-“ He caught sight of Starscream and the anger bled from his field, medical training taking over to try and sooth his patient.

“The sparklings are. Separating.” Starscream vented heavily, optics squeezing shut as he tried to concentrate on keeping his spark pulses calm and steady.

Ratchet ran a quick scan over him to confirm the seeker’s suspicions. “Yes, they certainly are. Well, you’re going to be uncomfortable for the next few hours. I can’t give you sedatives or painkillers, they could affect your spark rate. This takes a little while with just one sparkling, twelve will be. Tough.”

“Wonderful,” Starscream grumbled. The ache on one part of his spark increased, growing to a white-hot point before there was snapping sensation and it faded.

“That’s one.” Ratchet encouraged, scanners following the little spark down until it merged with the miniature spark chamber that had formed for it in Starscream’s gestation chamber.

“Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” Thundercracker asked, rubbing a hand over Starscream’s wing in an attempt to sooth him.

“Just keep doing that.” Ratchet instructed, “The presence of your sparks will help keep him and the sparklings calm. Having the sire close is the best for this.”

“Should we get the other seekers in here too?” Skywarp asked, moving to stroke his trine-leader’s other wing. “Would having all the sires help more?”

“All the-“ Rachet stared at the two before shaking his head. “Well, no wonder your spark is so crowded. It might help, but it’s up to Starscream how many mecha he wants with him during this.”

Starscream didn’t particularly want the rest of his frame-kin stuffing themselves into the room to fawn all over him. As nice as it was sometimes, they could get quite overwhelming all at once.

Another of the sparklings began to separate, a stinging sensation that made him hiss and try to curl up, and Starscream reconsidered his decision. Maybe it would be nice to have a few more hands to pet his frame reverently and appreciate all this hard work he was doing. Not all of the seekers, but Acid Storm’s trine could be trusted to be properly respectful. Plus, Ion Storm’s inbuilt electro-magnetic abilities meant that he gave _fabulous_ massages.

Starscream pinged Acid Storm, and wasn’t entirely surprised when his door chimed only a few clicks later. The trio had probably run the entire way.

“Oh, brother!” Sunstorm shoved his way into the room and dramatically threw himself over Starscream, forcing Thundercracker and Skywarp to move out of the way, “What a joyous moment to be present for!”

Fortunately for Starscream’s nerves, Acid Storm moved in to pull his trine-mate back, “Come on, Sunny, I don’t think he appreciates you smothering him.”

“Are you okay, Lord Starscream?” Ion Storm asked softly, petting a reverent hand over the curve of his middle.

In response, Starscream lifted himself up and flopped over onto his side, flicking both wings behind him to present his back to the Rainmakers, “Wings. Massage. Now.”

“The sparklings are pulling away from his spark, it’s very uncomfortable,” Thundercracker explained, rubbing a hand gently over his trine-leader’s chest plating.

“Aww,” Ion Storm crooned softly, moving in to start massaging Starscream’s wing hinges with gentle hands. Magnetic pulses from his fingers relaxed the tense plating, relieving the soreness from lugging around so much sparkling weight, and soon Starscream was purring loudly as he relaxed into the berth.

“That’s great, keep that up.” Ratchet took another discreet scan of Starscream, looking over the results with satisfaction. “The more relaxed he is, the less stressful the separation will be on the sparklings.”

Sunstorm and Acid Storm each took a wing and started rubbing the sensitive metal, EM fields broadcasting as much calm and comfort as they could. Thundercracker and Skywarp tended to their trine-leader’s front, teasing transformation seams and massaging tensed cabling. Soon, the room was full of the sound of purring seeker engines, Starscream giving occasional groans of discomfort as the separation process wore on.

Another sharp pinch preceded the next sparkling moving down out of his chamber, and Starscream winced before pressing his wings harder into the massaging hands. The other seekers kept up their reassurances, fields and spark energies meshing with his in a warm, pleasant way. Their presence really did seem to be helping, his whole body relaxing into their familiar hold.

Ratchet hummed approvingly as the second sparkling successfully separated from Starscream’s spark and drifted down to integrate with the bare bones of a protoform developing in his gestation chamber. Everything was moving along well, Starscream’s spark was pulsing slowly and evenly, and the other seekers seemed to have everything in hand. This would be a lengthy process, and there was no need for Ratchet to sit around and supervise the whole thing.

Pulling out a cube of energon, Ratchet added a scoop of Starscream’s supplements and handed it to the nearest jet. “Here, try to get him to drink at least a few sips between separations. He’s going to need to keep his energy up. Keep him calm and relaxed, comm me if there’s any issues.”

“Right,” Acid Storm nodded and turned away to murmur to Starscream in a low voice, gently pressing the cube against the other jet’s lips.

Satisfied that Starscream was well taken care of, Ratchet left the room and stepped out into the hall. Then he realized that he was still in the Decepticon base and would have to drive all the way back to the Ark. Slagging teleporters.

The slow process of separation continued through the cycle, a haze of soft petting, gentle praises, and the pinching, pulling on his spark. Starscream allowed energon to be coaxed into him during the short rests he got between sparklings, head pillowed in Thundercracker’s lap until finally, the last sparkling separated. Sore, tired, and feeling as though his spark had been stomped on, Starscream fell into a deep recharge cycle until morning.

Once again, Starscream onlined underneath a pile of jets. He wiggled a bit, making himself more comfortable, but made no effort to get up. Every part of him was sore, and the frames around him were a warm, friendly weight. The only sound was the rumble of idling flight engines, a familiar noise that lulled Starscream back into recharge.

When Starscream woke again, the Rainmakers had left and only his two trinemates remained. His head was still in Thundercracker’s lap, the blue jet quietly watching another inane human program on a datapad while one hand gently stroked his trine-leader’s helm. Skywarp, meanwhile, had his head pillowed on Starscream’s belly and was whispering to the sparklings within.

“Skywarp, what are you doing?” Starscream groaned and shifted a bit, stretching out his aching cables.

“Just talking to the lil’ bits!” Skywarp explained happily, pressing a kiss to Starscream’s plating instead. “Since their sparks are down in their frames now an’ all.”

“They don’t have audials yet, they can’t hear you.” Starscream rolled his optics fondly. Skywarp just shrugged in response and opted to tickle his trine-leader’s tummy instead.

Starscream let out a startled shriek and kicked out one leg, catching Skywarp in the middle and knocking the other jet back with a loud “oof!” Thundercracker didn’t budge, watching the scene with faint amusement.

“Well then.” Starscream smoothed his ruffled plating back down and did his best to regain his dignity as he shifted around until he could sit up. Skywarp let out a little whine and stuck his glossa out in Starscream’s direction. “Stop that, it serves you right. It’s time to get up anyway, we need to prepare to move things through the space bridge.”

“You sure?” Thundercracker paused the program he was watching and set his datapad down, “You can take a day off, you know. Sparkling separation isn’t easy, you should just rest for awhile.”

It was a very tempting idea, but- “And let those idiots try to make plans without me? Who knows how they’ll mess things up. I’ll be able to rest once we’re back on Cybertron.”

Starscream pushed his trinemates away and levered himself up off the berth. It took two tries before he managed to get fully upright, grumbling a little as he worked to find his balance. Just standing up was getting difficult, he dreaded ending up on berthrest like the medic had predicted. There was far too much to do, so many tasks that needed supervising.

Reaching the communication hub/command center, Starscream lowered himself down into a chair with a sigh and frowned when his belly pressed into the edge of the computer console. Wonderful. He fidgeted a bit until he was somewhat comfortable and plugged himself into the console to start planning. They needed to prioritize what material and personnel would be sent through the Space Bridge first, and what could wait until later.

Methods for energon production would have to go over first, of course, along with a portion of the science team. Then the construction mecha, along with anyone who wanted to assist, would have to go through to start cleaning up an area for habitation. As much as Starscream wanted to return to Vos, there was almost nothing left of his home city. Truly, there was little left of most Cybertronian city-states. Battle damage from the war and vorns of neglect had taken their toll on the planet. The most intact city was the last that had fallen, Iacon, and it would be the easiest to make habitable again.

Depressingly, the entirety of both armies could probably be housed in only two or three of Iacon’s old apartment buildings. How far their species had fallen.

Starscream had just finished hashing out assignments for the next few cycles when his comm gave an irritating buzz. With a grumble, he accepted the call, “Yes? What is it?”

::Starscream, we have one of your seekers in our brig. Flashdive, I believe. He started a fight with two of our Autobots.:: Prowl was, as always, precise and to the point. ::Please send someone to come get him and his trinemates.::

Oh for the love of Primus. ::I’m tempted to let you keep him, but unfortunately, he’s useful. I’ll send someone for him and his trine. Starscream out.::

Sighing, Starscream rubbed at his helm and leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t get two minutes of peace, could he? Now then, who could he send to the Autobot base? “Thundercracker!”

“Starscream?” Thundercracker stepped into the console room at the call, having been standing guard just outside. “What’s wrong?”

“Take the Rainmakers and go to the Autobot base. Flashdive got himself and his trine in trouble fighting with an Autobot, they’re in their brig.” He would probably have to contact the Prime after this and make sure this little interfactional incident didn’t kick off anything bigger. “Go fetch the idiots and put them in a cell until I can get around to talking to them.”

“And until then, you’ll go back to our quarters with ‘Warp and rest?” Thundercracker asked hopefully, giving Starscream a kiss on the helm.

“Because sitting here is so terribly taxing.” Starscream scoffed, waving his trine-mate away.

“Work is stressful.” Thundercracker countered, “And stress is-“

“-bad for the sparklings.” Starscream finished. Yes, yes, all the datapads specified that carriers should be kept relaxed and happy, because if a carrier’s systems were stressed it interfered with the forging process and caused strain on the immature youngling sparks. Of course, none of those carriers in the datapads had also had to run an entire army. “Fine.”

“You act like being pampered is such a chore.” Thundercracker gave a low chuckle, running his hands down his trine-leader’s front. “You won’t have much choice when you stop fitting in this chair.”

“Fine.” To be honest, Starscream’s back did hurt. And he was awful bored of just sitting at this console. Starscream attempted to get out of the chair, only to find himself wedged in place. “First, just. Help me out of this chair.”

Thundercracker laughed again and extracted Starscream from his seat, putting him on his pedes and gently pushing him into the arms of Skywarp, who had appeared behind them.

“Go relax, I’ll fetch the idiots.” Thundercracker walked out, comming for Acid Storm as he did.

Skywarp wrapped his arms around Starscream with a gleeful little giggle and ‘ported them back to their quarters.

“Now I get you all to myself,” Skywarp grinned, sitting Starscream down on the berth and crawling over him.

“Yes, you have me to yourself.” Starscream smirked and lay back. As long as he was here, he might as well enjoy himself. “And what are you going to do now?”

“How about I just ravish you?” Skywarp looked down at his trine-leader below him with satisfaction. Starscream was just as gorgeous as ever, optics seductively narrowed and a smile on his dark lips, helm framed by the gleaming ruby red of his shoulder vents.

Of course, what really caught Skywarp’s attention were the more recent changes. How Starscream’s once trim and tiny waist had rounded out into an impressive, gravid curve to accommodate the growing sparklings. Skywarp peppered kisses along the bulge of his tummy, working lower and lower towards silver thighs. There were changes there, too. Starscream’s hips had gotten wider and legs thicker, better to carry the added weight of the sparklings. With an eager little trill, Skywarp pressed his face between plush thighs and nibbled at the heated red codpiece he found.

There was an appreciative moan from above, blue hands coming down to grip Skywarp’s helm as Starscream’s modesty plating slid aside. The silver folds of his valve were hot and swollen, lubricant dribbling out to pool on the berth. Carrying protocols meant that Starscream was pretty much always wet and ready for a ‘face these days. Skywarp dove in eagerly, glossa exploring the familiar depths of his trine-leader’s valve. Starscream’s legs wrapped around Skywarp’s waist, flight engines humming loudly and sending pleasant vibrations up the black seeker’s backstrut.

Skywarp grinned and sucked on Starscream’s anterior node, enjoying the shriek he got in response. Plenty of mechs liked to make fun of Starscream and his screechy voice, but Skywarp loved how responsive his mate was in berth. Even if he had to dial down the sensitivity on his audials a little bit.

Hands shifting from Starscream’s hips up his sides, Skywarp found where the swell of the gestation chamber began and pressed his thumbs in. His trine-leader was so tense and tight there, and Skywarp just wanted to massage all of that away. 

Of course, Skywarp also couldn’t resist enjoying the newfound squish of Starscream’s middle. His gestation chamber was full of cushioning fluids, helping disperse the heat of forging and prevent injury to the fragile, developing protoforms. It also meant that Starscream was delightfully soft, a feature that Skywarp loved to explore.

Starscream, however, could only tolerate being squished for so long before the thighs on either side of Skywarp’s helm tightened reproachfully and a scratchy voice demanded, “Well, stop poking me and get on with it!”

Skywarp chuckled, but moved to accommodate the request. The mission was, after all, to keep Starscream happy. He pulled his face back from the other seeker’s codpiece, then wrapped both arms under Starscream’s aft to lift his hips off the berth. Starscream gave a little grunt of surprise, which quickly morphed into a moan as Skywarp pressed his spike into his trine-leader’s valve. It was getting a little more difficult to find positions that worked as Starscream got bigger, but this would do for now. Skywarp made a mental note to go on a hunt for pillows and blankets next cycle, things would be made much easier with some supportive cushion. For now, though, he would just have to do his best to frag Starscream right into recharge.

By the time Thundercracker returned to the base, Starscream was a purring, limp puddle on the berth. Wings twitched as Thundercracker sat down on the berth, and Starscream’s optics dimly flickered online to look at his wingmate.

“Everything go well?” Starscream asked, vocalizer staticy and tired.

“It was fine.” Thundercracker stroked a hand down his wing soothingly, “Prime didn’t seem to be too mad. Flashdive and his trine are in the brig. You can talk to them tomorrow.”

Starscream hummed and laid back into Skywarp, who chirred and wrapped arms around his trine-leader. Thundercracker just smiled indulgently and snuggled in with his wingmates. He wasn’t tired, but he would never pass up a chance to just relax with the two.


	7. Chapter 7

Starscream fixed a frown on his face as he walked into the brig. It wasn’t hard to do, as he really didn’t appreciate being made to come all the way down to chastise some of his seekers. Walking in general was becoming more and more of a chore, but Starscream wasn’t about to send anyone else to do this.

The brig in the new base was very little like the old ones on the Nemesis. It was well lit, and lacked the smell of scorched energon and the whimpering of whipped mecha. Much of the energon decorating the brig’s walls had been Starscream’s own. This space was obviously new and barely used. Starscream had only insisted it be built so he would have somewhere to toss the troublemakers of the Decepticon faction.

Thruster heels clicked importantly against the floor, creating a staccato rhythm that echoed off the walls until Starscream turned and stopped in front of one of the cells. Inside, a single seeker sat miserably on the recharge slab looking really rather sorry for himself.

“Flashdive!” Starscream crossed his arms and tapped one pede on the floor, “I’m not happy about having to come down here to discipline one of my seekers. Explain yourself.”

“Lord Starscream!” Flashdive’s optics shot up to his leader’s face in surprise, before returning hastily to the floor in a show of submission. “It was those Autobot twins. I heard them talking. Threatening you. Threatening the sparklings!” Though his eyes stayed fixed on the ground, Flashdive’s wings quivered in restrained anger. “Saying how they wished they could offline you, that the sparklings were better off dying before they were born if they were just going to be more seekers. I had to defend you!”

“So you gave in to your base programming and let a pair of groundpounders goad you into mindlessly attacking them.” Starscream certainly wasn’t fond of the ‘Terror Twins’ and had experienced more than enough of their Jet Judo to know the pair were formidable warriors, but he didn’t think either of them would actually go through with angering their Prime by outright attacking him. In this case, however, they could justifiably claim self-defense. “Did it occur to you that attacking a pair of Autobots and jeopardizing the armistice would put me in more danger?”

Flashdive raised his helm to look at Starscream, though his gaze remained respectfully below that of his Winglord’s. A heavy dent in his cheek had cracked his left optic, and one wingtip was wrenched around in a painful way. Clearly, the twins had given as good as they got. “My Lord, I- I couldn’t sit there and listen to them threaten you like that!”

“If you hear important intel, you report it to your superiors. You don’t act on it yourself!” Starscream reminded him irritably. “You’re of no use to me or anyone else if you’re stuck in the Autobot brig. Fortunately for you, I need you and your trinemates. You’ll be staying in this cell on half-rations until the Space Bridge is operational. Then you and your trine will be on the first bridge to Cybertron to work on the reconstruction effort.”

“Yes, Lord Starscream.”

Satisfied with that, Starcream moved to the next cell, where Hotlink and Bitstream sat with their arms around each other. The two had only minor scuffs and scrapes, the result of pulling their trinemate away from the aft-kicking he had been receiving. “You two will remain in the brig as well. You may not have started the fight, but you didn’t stop your idiot trinemate from jumping headfirst into it.”

“We were a bit distracted with programming the-,“ Bitstream tried to make an excuse, but Starscream just held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t care.” Starscream said sternly, barely refraining from raising a hand to massage his forehelm. Instead, he shifted his weight and rubbed at his backstrut, where a painful knot of tension was forming. Idly, he wondered if Ion Storm was around; he could use another massage. “You three will be on cleanup duty and punishment detail on Cybertron until the sparklings emerge or I get bored, whichever comes first.”

The pair nodded their heads, accepting the sentence, and Starscream stalked out.

As much as Starscream just wanted to go back to his quarters and get a massage, he had another important duty to attend to. So, instead he went to the communication hub and sent a comm request to the Ark. This time, Starscream knew better than to try and sit down in the console chair and remained standing, as much as his back and ankles protested the choice.

The call was answered after a few clicks, the security director transferring him over to the Prime after only a cursory round of threats.

“Starscream,” Optimus Prime greeted cordially as his frame filled the vidscreen. “It is good to see you well. How are the sparklings?”

“Fine,” Starscream responded stiffly, not wanting to waste time on pointless small talk. Instead, he got straight to the point. “I have Flashdive and his trine in the brig now, and will be punishing them for the fight. I want to make sure that this. . . incident won’t affect the peace.”

“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe still claim that they were attacked unprovoked, but as I understand it, the two were loudly threatening you where they knew they would be heard.” Optimus knew better than to take the word of the twins at face value, and fortunately the science team had overheard the start of the fight. “I have reminded them that verbal harassment will be no more tolerated than physical harassment. Prowl is punishing them appropriately.”

“Myself and all my seekers will take threats against the sparklings very seriously.” Starscream reminded him. It was nothing new for Starscream to hear mecha threaten his life, and he could handle it. The sparklings, however, were a different matter.

“I would expect no less.”

Starscream nodded. “Then I will contact you when I hear from our Cybertron team about the Space Bridge. Starscream out.”

Ending the call, Starscream slumped a little and sent a comm for Ion Storm. He wanted that massage now.

It was a true day to celebrate when the Space Bridge was made operational again and the first shipment of supplies and mecha was sent to Cybertron. Finally, the rebuilding could begin. The science teams had the job of installing the energy production machinery and getting it running, while other groups were tasked with locating habitable structures and cleaning them up so they could be lived in once more.

Many Decepticons had worked in hard labor before joining the uprising, and a good number of them seemed to be looking forward to doing something constructive once again. A surprising portion of the Autobot army volunteered to go as well, proving that very few of the once-noble class remained on either side of the war. All that was left were the tired warriors, who had been fighting so long it was hard to remember how to do anything else. It would be good for all of them to collaborate on a task like rebuilding their destroyed home.

Starscream, as well as his trine and half his seekers, remained on Earth for the time being. Considering his condition, Starscream would be absolutely no help in the reconstruction efforts, and he was also reluctant to move quarters again without the assurance that a comfortable habsuite would be waiting. One trine had been assigned to do just that: find a suitable apartment for their Winglord to move into. And Starscream sincerely hoped it would be soon, he wanted off this dirtball planet while he could still walk unassisted.

Of course, just as walking was getting harder, so was flying. Starscream groaned as he ignited his thrusters and took to the air, having to expend quite a lot more effort than he was used to just to get aloft.

“You okay, Starscream?” Thundercracker checked in, effortlessly hovering alongside his trine-leader.

“Just fine.” Starscream growled back, wishing he could just fold into his alt-mode and blast off. Impossible, of course. The sparklings had gotten too large to allow him to transform, even if important armor pieces hadn’t been removed to accommodate their growth, and he was now far too heavy and unwieldy to performance his usual aerial acrobatics.

“Slow an’ steady, just like the medic said.” Skywarp chirped, circling around them. Both he and Thundercracker were still in root form as well, though it was clearly taking all of Skywarp’s self-control to travel at Starscream’s speed.

“Shut up!” Starscream snapped. It was galling to be robbed of his most famous attribute: his speed. He didn’t have Outlier abilities like most seekers, it was only his speed and his smarts that made him stand out from his kin. Both of his hands went to cradle the curve of his belly protectively, the sparks of the seekerlings inside him pulsing with feelings of comfort and happiness at the sensation of flight, even if it was a slow one. Well, okay, now he stood out from the other seekers in another important way as well.

As difficult as carrying was, as annoying as it could sometimes be, Starscream would suddenly remember that he carried the future of his entire race inside him. He couldn’t stay mad at the sparklings for long. Venting deeply, Starscream levelled off his flight and tried to just enjoy the wind passing over his wings.

“Calm down, Starscream.” Thundercracker lazily flipped over to fly face to face with his trine-leader, only a few feet between them, with the ease of being trined for millennia. “You’ll be able to fly properly again soon enough.”

“Yeah, you won’t be fat forever.” Skywarp added, shooting ahead only to warp back to his trinemate’s sides, “You’ll pop out all those sparklings, and then we’ll have itty bitty fledglings to fly with.” He gave a little squee of excitement.

Starscream wanted to reach out and smack Skywarp, but knew his annoying wingmate would just ‘warp out of the way. And, to be honest, the image of introducing chirping little seekerlings to the joys of flight was incredibly appealing. He had faint memories of seeing seekerlings from his short time in Vos before the war, though of course back then he had assumed they had come from factories. They were delicate little things, with tiny grasping claws and flappy winglets and big, red optics.

A croon worked its way out of his vocalizer, Starscream unable to help cooing to the sparklings even though they weren’t born yet. Thundercracker and Skywarp glanced at each other and grinned. Starscream could be as prickly as he liked, but even he couldn’t deny the cuteness of sparklings. Especially with carrying protocols running so strongly at the forefront of his processor.

“Have they started moving yet?” Skywarp asked eagerly.

“No, Skywarp. The protoforms aren’t developed enough yet to move.” Starscream wasn’t sure how much he was looking forward to that. He liked being able to recharge at night without being kicked from the inside.

Starscream was familiar with the routine at the medbay by now. This time, Ratchet took some pity on him and assisted him in getting up onto the berth before scanning him.

“Looks like the separation went well.” Ratchet gave an approving nod at the scan results. “All twelve sparklings have integrated properly with their protoforms. Any lingering spark or chest pain on your part?”

“I was sore for a cycle afterwards, but it faded.” Starscream folded aside his chest plating so that the medic could examine his spark.

“Good, good. You don’t seem to have any scarring or damage.” Ratchet let him close up his chest and moved to take a more detailed scan of the protoforms developing in his gestation chamber. “Hmm, that’s odd.”

“What, what’s odd?” Starscream’s carrying was already rather unknown territory, the last thing he needed was something going wrong.

“I’m going to take a deep scan to get a better idea of what I’m seeing.” Ratchet brought out another tool and ran it slowly over Starscream’s abdomen, sonar waves penetrating his protoform to get a 3-D image of the inside of his gestation chamber.

“Is there something wrong with my sparklings?” Starscream demanded, trying to get a look at the scanner’s display.

“Calm down.” Ratchet pushed him back onto the berth. “I told you, I’ve never seen one of your frametype through carrying. Unless I see obvious signs of distress from either your systems or the sparklings, I’m just going to have to assume your body knows what it’s doing.”

Ratchet tapped a button on the scanner, projecting the image as a 3-D hologram so that Starscream could see as well. “See, at this stage, I would expect the protoforms to be further developed. Instead, they’re still just bare struts with spark chambers, and the nanites are focused on building hard shells around the sparklings.”

“Hard shells?” Starscream stared at the projection, eyes narrowed at the rounded armor forming around the delicate sparklings. It looked awfully like- “As in eggs?”

“Always said you seekers were bird-brains.” Ratchet snarked. “It would make some sense, for such a large number of sparklings. Packing all the nutrients and nanites the protoforms need into an egg lessens the amount of time your systems have to try and support them.”

“I’m going to lay _eggs_?!” Both of Starscream’s servos went to his belly even as he glared at the scan. “Like some organic bird?!”

“_Calm down_,” Ratchet repeated, “It’s not that bad. This means you won’t have to carry as long, it will be less stress and strain on your frame since much of the protoform development will likely happen after you, well, lay.”

This was very true. If the sparklings came out as eggs to finish their development, his gestation would be significantly shortened. Starscream had been dreading being heavy and ground-bound for cycles on end as he grew larger. The indignity of laying eggs, of all things, would be worth getting back to his usual svelte form sooner.

“Any idea when that will be?” Starscream might have to call the Cybertron teams and get them to step up reconstruction on a new habsuite for their Winglord.

“Slag if I know.” Ratchet shrugged. “I’m in new territory here. I’ll have to check up on you regularly to monitor the development of the, uh, eggshells.”

“Which means more flights all the way out here.” Starscream groaned and struggled to sit up, “It’s not getting any easier, you know.”

“You’re fine.” Ratchet placed a hand on his back and helped boost the gravid seeker into a sitting position. “It’s good for your systems to move around regularly. Just make sure to keep your fuel levels topped off at all times. If you really can’t bring yourself to leave your quarters, comm me. The nesting phase, when a carrier refuses to leave their home, is usually a sign that emergence will be soon.”

“I’m not going to build an actual nest as well, am I?” Starscream grumped, dangling one pede off the berth and trying to find the floor.

Ratchet just smirked and helped the seeker down from the med berth. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Come back in two weeks, I can check on the eggshell development and see if I can guess when you’ll lay a little more accurately.”

“Wonderful,” Starscream made note of the appointment in his schedule and accepted another cube of supplements from the medic. Being the Winglord came with all sorts of surprises, apparently.

“So, what did the medic say?” Skywarp asked curiously as they made their way back out of the Ark.

“The sparklings are fine.” Starscream reassured. “And, apparently, we might be seeing them a little sooner than expected. Sort of.”

“What do you mean?” Thundercracker raised an optic ridge at his wingmate curiously.

“Apparently, seekers lay eggs.” Starscream was still having a hard time picturing it.

Skywarp, however, had no trouble at all imagining it. “Really?!” He chirped excitedly. “Oh, I can just see you brooding over a big nest of eggs. And then we can sit and watch them hatch, and they’ll be so cute.”

“That’s. . .different.” Thundercracker was slightly more weirded out by the idea than his wingmate, but couldn’t deny it made an adorable mental image. “You know, humans carry around eggs in little protective cartons. We should see if we can get a giant one.”

“Awww, little baby carton.” Skywarp squeed.

“I’m not going to build a nest, and I’m not going to keep all the eggs.” The winglord reproduced on behalf of all of seeker-kind, but that didn’t mean Starscream had to raise all of them. “After I lay them, each trine can come and claim one of the eggs.”

“But, we’ll keep at least one of them, right?” Skywarp gave Starscream his best puppy-dog optics.

“Yes, we’ll keep one of them.” Starscream couldn’t say no to that face, and never could.

“Yes!” Skywarp transformed and shot off into the sky to turn triumphant, cheerful loops over the Ark.

“I think you just made his vorn.” Thundercracker chuckled and took Starscream’s arm to help him lift off so they could follow after their errant trinemate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, it's eggs!


	8. Chapter 8

Fortunately for Starscream, the teams sent to Cybertron worked fairly quickly at fixing up a few of the habitable buildings left in Iacon so that more mecha could start moving back to the planet. An excited call from Nacelle, the third of Slipstream’s trine, informed Starscream that the seekers had claimed the tallest standing apartment building remaining in the city and were fixing it up into a livable space for all their framekin.

As soon as Starscream heard that a habsuite was completed and ready for him, he made plans to move himself and the rest of the seekers to Cybertron. Ratchet had reported that the eggshells were developing quickly. They totally enclosed the protoforms now, and were getting thicker by the cycle. Skywarp’s new favorite activity was pressing and poking at Starscream’s belly until he could feel the hard shapes of the eggs roll inside. Starscream would (barely) tolerate the treatment until it made him nauseous and he pushed Skywarp off.

Apparently, Starscream could lay the eggs at any time, since Ratchet wasn’t sure how thick the eggshells would get before coming out, so he was determined to get back to Cybertron as soon as possible.

Most of the mecha still on Earth were of a similar frame of mind, eager to get back to their home world. A small team had to stay behind in order to strip the Ark and maintain trade relations with the humans, an entirely Autobot team since none of the Decepticons really wanted to stay on Earth. Everyone else was more than ready to bridge back to Cybertron.

The next Space Bridge opening found Starscream on his way to Cybertron with the remainder of his Seekers, eager to get off the organic world he had been stuck on for years. He was still capable of walking on his own, though Thundercracker and Skywarp tended to flank him very closely in case his balance failed him. Starscream couldn’t wait to get into a more permanent dwelling and finally take a little time off.

Space Bridge transport was never particularly pleasant, feeling one’s particles being hurled through the expanses of space via subspace folding (in fact, the only mech who seemed to tolerate it with no ill effect was Skywarp), it was even less pleasant to bridge while carrying. Starscream clapped a hand over his mouth and concentrated very hard on not purging as they arrived on Cybertron in a flash of blinding light. Every seeker on Cybertron would be there to meet them, and Starscream didn’t need them seeing him spew his energon everywhere.

The light from the transit faded and Starscream steadied himself before stepping out of the bridge, nausea fortunately fading now that he was on solid ground again. Standing outside the Space Bridge were the rest of the seeker forces, all in formation with hands raised in formal salute.

When the seekers caught sight of their Winglord, though, many faltered in their rigid stances and stared slack-jawed at Starscream. Those who had not come to Earth had only seen the Air Commander by grainy video-feed from the chest up. Though they had heard that their Winglord was carrying, most of the seeker forces had only a vague idea of what that meant.

Stifled giggles bounced through the wings as the seekers tried and failed to suppress their amusement at the sight of Starscream’s ample frame. Seeker frames were meant to be slim and aerodynamic, the pinnacle of flight frame engineering. To see one so round was almost absurd.

Despite knowing this, Starscream still didn’t appreciate having all his forces in hysterics at the sight of him. “Seekers, attention!”

His forces snapped back to attention, the last few giggles falling silent, though the fliers couldn’t quite wipe the amused grins off their faceplates.

“As you can obviously tell, I am carrying.” Starscream commented wryly, one hand pressing into his lower back while the other supported his belly. “This will be a new start for us, for all seekers. The first sparklings since before I became Winglord. I expect all of you to work hard on restoring our home into a place where our sparklings can grow and thrive. For now, take the rest of the cycle off. Everyone will receive assignments tomorrow.”

Flicking his wings in a dismissive gesture, Starscream turned his attention to his first lieutenant. “Slipstream!”

The teal and purple femme stepped forward, trinemates at her wings, “Yes, Commander?”

“It is Lord,” Starscream reminded her. “I was told an apartment had been prepared for myself and my trine. Take me there.”

“Yes, M’ Lord,” Slipsteam faltered, looking over Starscream uncertainly. “Um, are you okay to fly? Your apartment is top floor, and the lifts don’t work yet.”

“Of course I can fly.” Starscream bristled indignantly.

“We’ll help him.” Skywarp helpfully added, earning him a glare.

“Follow me, then.” Slipstream leapt into the air with her trine, the three hovering in place as they waited for Starscream.

It took the Winglord quite a bit more effort to lift his burdened frame into the air. Skywarp and Thundercracker each took one of his hands and used their own thrusters to help him escape the pull of gravity. Slipstream and Nova Storm did their best to keep straight faces, though Nacelle couldn’t keep in a brief giggle. Starscream ignored her, instead focusing on his bond with the sparklings. He wanted them to know his joy and pride of being back on Cybertron.

::This is our home:: Starscream sent over the bond, though he knew the sparklings were far too young to understand. ::I know it doesn’t look like much now, but it was once great. And we will make it great again.::

The landscape of Iacon passed underneath them as the two trines of seekers flew over the city. Things were still mostly intact, since Iacon’s dome had protected the city from the worst of the bombing until just before the Autobots had fled in the Ark and Megatron had taken off after them. Still, the war, followed by several thousand vorns of neglect had taken its toll. Rust edged many of the roads and buildings, and long cycles of acid rain had stripped the paint from everything. Only a few lights glowed weakly, the deeper levels completely dark and silent, and some areas seemed to be slowly collapsing down into the depths of the planet.

They thankfully didn’t have to fly far from the Space Bridge before Slipstream angled down towards one of the most intact buildings. It rose several stories higher than any of the buildings around in, and the exterior was surprisingly free of rust or corrosion.

Even better for the seekers were the balconies each apartment possessed. Someone had ripped off all the railings, turning them into landing pads for the fliers coming and going. Other seekers below them flitted in and out from the lower floors, watching as their Winglord landed on the balcony for the top floor apartment.

“It’s not exactly the Winglord’s spire back in Vos, but we did the best we could.” Slipstream commented, opening the tall glass door that led into the apartment from the balcony.

“We raided like five buildings to try and get enough stuff.” Nacelle chirped. “I snatched as many blankets and pillows as I could, since carrying bots like cushions and stuff.”

“Uh, good job.” Starscream said awkwardly, unused to thanking people for anything. They had done well, though. The apartment was nothing especially fancy, but after so many vorns in military barracks, it was luxury. “You may go now.”

Slipstream nodded and took her leave, trine following behind her. Now alone with Skywarp and Thundercracker, Starscream sighed and slumped. Finally, maybe he would be able to relax.

“Wow, this place is great.” Skywarp immediately started exploring, opening doors and poking around their new apartment. The main room contained a large couch and a vidscreen, along with an energon dispenser and preparation area. Skywarp eagerly tested it, drawing three cubes for himself and his wingmates.

Doors off the main room led to a berthroom, the enormous berth covered in blankets and pillows as promised, and to a washroom. Besides the usual shower, there was something the seekers hadn’t seen in vorns.

“An oil bath!” Skywarp shouted excitedly, squatting down beside the shimmering tub to fiddle with the controls. There was a whirring sound as the filtration system activated, followed by the heater, and oil began to fill the tub. “And it works!”

Starscream had been considering flopping down on the berth and not moving until morning, but the lure of the oil bath was irresistible. He joined Skywarp in the washroom and dipped a pede into the bath to test the temperature. It was still warming, but Starscream couldn’t wait. He stepped down into the bath and sank up to his chin with a happy moan. Warmth soaked into every joint, the buoyancy of the oil supporting him without strain.

Skywarp immediately hopping in alongside him, the oil sloshing as the black and purple seeker snuggled up alongside his trine-leader. Thundercracker watched with amusement from the door as Skywarp ducked his helm under the oil to press kisses to the curve of the sparklings, earning a contented purr from Starscream. “Enjoying yourselves?”

Starscream head up a hand and beckoned Thundercracker to join them. The blue seeker did so, more oil sloshing out as the three seekers tried to get comfortable in the small bath. Broad wings tended to make fitting in tight spaces difficult, but after a bit of adjusting, Starscream ended up comfortably squashed between his wingmates. Their engines rumbled against his plating, hands rubbing along his belly and up his sides.

“I could stay here forever.” Starscream said happily, wiggling his toe-pedes in the oil and relaxing back into his wingmate’s arms. The sparklings were a warm, calm presence inside him, but now their weight wasn’t stressing his frame. He could just lay back and float, flaring his armor plates to let the oil seep into every joint and seam.

Thundercracker let out a deep chuckle that vibrated against Starscream’s back plating. “Forever forever?”

“At least until I lay the eggs.” Starscream conceded, sinking lower into the bath as best he could.

“I hope it’s soon,” Skywarp chirped, fingers caressing the hard lump of one of the eggs inside his trine-leader’s gestation chamber. “I can’t wait to see ‘em. Hold ‘em. How long do you think it’ll take ‘em to hatch after they’re laid?”

“Don’t know.” Starscream admitted. “As much time as a regular gestation would still take, I assume. Another quartex, at least.”

Skywarp let out a little whine, “That’s soooo long.”

“Protoforms are complicated, they take a long time to develop.” Starscream was just glad that they wouldn’t finish their development inside of him. The sparklings were getting heavy, and he was tired of feeling like an over-stuffed cyber-turkey.

Heavy petting and relaxing in the oil bath continued until Starscream started to nod off, too tired to respond to teasing touches from his mates. Unfortunately, as comfortable as the oil bath was, Starscream couldn’t stay there.

“Come on, Star, can’t recharge here. You gotta get up.” Thundercracker wiggled out from under his trine-leader and tugged on his shoulders.

Starscream groaned and let his helm flop back as his trinemate tried to pull him upright. “Nnn, carry me.”

“Carry you?” Skywarp opened the drain on the tub so that the oil would run out, then grabbed towels to dry them off. “You’re too heavy, even with two of us!”

That got him a grumble as anger returned a little energy to Starscream’s limbs, and he managed to find his pedes. He remained upright long enough for Skywarp to finish drying him, leaning heavily on Thundercracker as his trinemates dragged him to the berthroom.

Starscream curled up on the berth with a happy purr and tugged the blankets around him comfortably. The cushions and pillows were a gift from Primus, allowing Starscream to arrange them just right until every part of him was supported.

“You gonna leave room for us?” Thundercracker chuckled, looking at his mate buried under his pile of fabrics. It was a large berth, but Starscream was doing a grand job taking up as much space as possible.

“Mmmfff, comfy.” Came the muffed reply.

“We’ll just have to make room!” Skywarp cheerfully wiggled his way in between Starscream and the wall, burrowing under the covers until he could plaster himself against his trine-leader’s back. Thundercracker followed suit, sliding under the blankets and arranging himself on Starscream’s other side. His mate’s plating was warm and smooth, smelling sweetly of the oil from their bath, and Thundercracker reveled in feeling the bulge of their sparklings press into his own middle. He rubbed a hand over Starscream’s belly, smiling at the deep purr he got in return. The blue seeker hadn’t seen his trine-leader so relaxed in. . .well, ever. Even before the war, Starscream had always been tense and angry. On edge, waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.

From what little Thundercracker knew of Starscream’s life before they had trined, he had always been like that. A lit firecracker, ready to explode at any hint of injustice, of condescension, of disrespect. Thundercracker knew that carrying and raising a sparkling wouldn’t be a magical solution to everything, but he hoped that Starscream would finally be able to focus on the positive in life and just be. Happy.

Thundercracker pressed a kiss to Starscream’s nose, enjoying the way that the other seeker’s face scrunched up in response before smoothing back out again. He was solidly in recharge now, frame limp and free of any tension or stress. It was a moment Thundercracker wished he could savor forever.

As usual, Thundercracker and Skywarp were up in the morning long before Starscream was. Skywarp was content to sit and softly squish his trine-leader’s tummy, giving a little chirp of delight every time he felt one of the eggs shift inside, while Thundercracker lay on his side and idly scribbled down some ideas on a datapad. He had been somewhat put out to discover that Cybertron’s communication systems weren’t yet powerful enough to pick up media transmissions from Earth, and the human’s primitive magnetic-strip recording methods were too archaic to be compatible with Cybertronian tech. To put it lightly, Thundercracker found himself missing television. Cybertron had never really had anything like it. The closest had been the propaganda media put out by the Functionists, showing happy mecha living their ideal lives perfectly suited to their altmodes, while anyone that tried to move outside their function ended up either extremely unhappy or dead. Nothing like Earthen media, which had the freedom to express all the pains and joys of existence, the humans expressing many of the same emotions that mechs did.

Though it would have to wait until Cybertron had been made more liveable, Thundercracker thought that creating their own “TV shows” would be a grand idea. A way to express themselves that didn’t involve shooting each other.

It was a peaceful, idyllic morning, until things were interrupted by a knock on the door to their habsuite. That in of itself was strange, since any seekers or other flightframes would enter from the outside door on the balcony. This knock, however, came from the apartment’s inner door.

At almost the same time, Thundercracker’s comm system pinged with a request. He accepted, and heard the voice of one of the younger seekers who lived below them.

::Um, Prince Thundercracker? The Prime is here to see the Winglord.::

Thundercracker didn’t comment on the use of his title (as the trinemate of the Winglord, technically he was a Prince, but pits it was weird to hear it used) and instead just sighed. ::Thank you, I’ll see what he wants.::

“What’s going on?” Skywarp asked curiously as Thundercracker carefully got out of the berth, trying very hard not to wake up Starscream.

“Prime is here. Stay here, I’ll go talk to him.” Thundercracker made his way to the apartment’s door, opening it to find the stoic form of Optimus Prime standing in the hallway. Strangely, he seemed to be alone, save for a few seekers staring at him suspiciously from the stairs.

“Thundercracker,” Optimus inclined his helm respectfully. “I was hoping to speak with Starscream, may I come in?”

“He’s still in recharge.” Thundercracker stepped aside to let the other mech in. He wasn’t fond of the Prime, but he was well aware that far more Cybertronians supported Prime as a leader than Starscream and didn’t want to risk angering the other mech. “I don’t want to wake him.”

“Of course not.” Optimus stepped inside the apartment, lingering awkwardly just inside the door. “I am sure he needs as much rest as possible right now.”

“Too late,” A scratchy voice came from the door to the berthroom, where Starscream leaned heavily on the doorframe. Skywarp hovered behind him, having clearly failed to keep his wingmate in the berth. “What do you want, Prime?”

“I apologize for bothering you, Starscream, but there are some topics I feel it important we discuss sooner rather than later.” Optimus felt a little guilty for bothering Starscream when the seeker was so gravid, but he didn’t climb the many flights of stairs to get up to the Winglord’s apartment for a casual visit. “Do you have some time?”

“Oh, I suppose.” Starscream sighed and made his way over to the couch, his awkward gait really more of a waddle at this point, and eased himself down to a comfortable sprawl. “What is so important that the Prime himself felt the need to call on me?”

Optimus sat down in an armchair that faced the couch, posture stiff and formal as he looked at the three seekers staring at him. It had taken a lot of convincing to get his Autobots to let their Prime walk into a building of seekers without guard or backup, but Optimus wanted to prove that the war was over. So long as he didn’t threaten their Winglord and his sparklings, there was nothing to fear from their former enemies. “We need to discuss how we will govern the planet now that the war is over. Our people cannot continue to live under military rule and structure forever. Cybertron needs a more stable form of government, and I want your input on how to proceed from here.”

Starscream stared at him mutely for a moment, optics wide and surprised. “And you’re coming to me, for opinions on how to rule?” He had assumed that the Prime would simply assume control again, and that he would have to take what he needed for his people.

“Of course. We are currently co-leaders, after all.” Optimus knew that he would never be able to exert any kind of cooperation from the Decepticons if he didn’t have Starscream on his side. “I think we can both agree that having one mech, or a small group of mechs, with absolute power should never happen again. There is too much opportunity for corruption and oppression.”

“We will not have a Senate again.” Starscream said with a sneer, vividly remembering the very last time the Cybertronian Senate had met. He had stood there, in the middle of the Senate floor, a grin on his faceplates as he shot every single one of those smug bastards right where they sat. 

“I agree. But we will need some sort of government. Laws and a way of enforcing them.” Cybertron had been so corrupt for so long, and the war had destroyed so much of their culture, they basically needed to create a new government from the ground up.

Optimus and Starscream got deep into political conversation, and Skywarp quickly got bored. He flopped himself down next to his trine-leader and stretched across the couch, pedes hanging over one armrest so he could pillow his helm on Starscream’s belly. Starscream could debate boring laws and stuff while getting his daily dose of cuddles.

Thundercracker rolled his optics, but Starscream just absently petted Skywarp’s helm as he continued to discuss politics with Prime. As loud and argumentative as Starscream was getting, it was clear he was genuinely enjoying debating with someone who wouldn’t beat him for it.

Surprisingly, Optimus Prime didn’t seem to mind having every one of his ideas ripped to shreds by a gleeful Starscream. His voice stayed calm and his frame relaxed as he responded to each of the seeker’s complaints, never once rising to the insults that Starscream couldn’t help but pepper his counterpoints with. In fact, from the faint amusement in his field, the big mech seemed to actually be enjoying himself as well. Gradually, Thundercracker relaxed and wrapped an arm around Starscream, confident that he would not have to protect his trineleader from an angry fist should the Prime tire of his arguing.

Even Starscream’s boundless enthusiasm for arguing had limits, though, especially so late into his carrying. After several joors of animated, loud discussion, both of his wingmates felt his energy start to flag. Wings drooped on their hinges, and Starscream’s optics had dimmed from their earlier bright crimson. Thundercracker frowned and wondered what would be the best way to end the conversation for the cycle. It wouldn’t look proper for him to usurp his Winglord’s authority in front of the Prime, but it certainly wouldn’t look good for said Lord to fall into recharge in the middle of a political discussion.

Fortunately, Prime noticed his debate partner was starting to nod off where he sat and decided to call an end to things.

“Well, Starscream, you have given me much to think about.” Optimus Prime nodded and stood from his chair, “Thank you for discussing things with me. I will have to contact you again soon, I’m sure I will find more things that require input.”

“I look forward to it, Prime.” Starscream’s optics brightened a little as he attempted to sit up better from the slouch he had sunken back into. “You’d run this planet into the ground without me.”

Prime chuckled, “I’m sure I would. I’ll call on you again in, say, two cycles?”

“I’ll be here,” Now that Starscream had a comfortable apartment, he had no intention of leaving it again until after he had laid the eggs. Much as he’d hate to admit it, debating politics with the Prime had given him a grudging respect for the other mech. Maybe he wasn’t needed to personally supervise _everything_ to do with the planet’s reconstruction. At least until he was able to get around on his own again.

The cycles passed, and Starscream found himself entertaining visitors at his apartment surprisingly frequently. His seekers wanted to stop by, of course, especially the ones who had not come to Earth and had not seen him in person in vorns. All of the wings wanted to come and see their carrying Winglord in person, eager to offer him gifts of energon, treats, and . .. _contributions_ to the sparkling’s growth. Starscream didn’t crave interface like he had earlier in his carrying, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn down such eager offers.

Skyfire came by as well, to spend time with his old friend and inform Starscream of all the scientific goings-on while he’d been absent. They often spoke for joors, Skyfire smiling indulgently whenever Starscream got angry and animated. It was all just bluster, though, none of the true _fury_ that had been so common in the seeker during the war. Skywarp still didn’t quite trust the big, white shuttle that could make their trine-leader laugh openly and honestly, but Thundercracker thought it was nice to see Starscream have an actual _friend_ again.

The Aerialbots were also becoming frequent visitors, always wanting stories or to talk flight strategy or to just ‘hang out’ with the fastest flier Cybertron had ever seen. The young gestalt had started flying with some of the seekers, their youth and innocence endearing them to some of the less jaded trines, and were absorbing information like eager sponges. If they kept this up, Starscream mused, they might even make competent fliers someday.

And, of course, Optimus Prime continued to come by every couple of cycles as promised to discuss laws, government, and all the nitty gritty details of rebuilding an entire planet. Optimus would bring up ideas, and Starscream would gleefully poke holes in them until they fell apart. Then things would get debated and discussed until the idea had been reshaped into something both could live with. Optimus would bring this back to his command team, who’s meetings Starscream got regular updates on via-Soundwave, and slowly a concrete plan for a system of government formed.

Starscream was deep in discussion one afternoon with Optimus, the two talking taxes and healthcare rights and a variety of other things that went right over Thundercracker’s helm. The blue seeker was barely listening anyway, seated on the opposite end of the couch from his trine-leader to avoid getting whacked by over-excited wings or servos and scribbling down ideas he’d had for his own ‘television show.’ Skywarp had gotten bored by the whole thing two joors ago and had gone out for a flight, having been kicked out by Starscream for blowing ‘raspberries’ against his belly and interrupting the political talks.

In the middle of tearing down the Prime’s proposed tax plan, Starscream paused in his words and shifted uncomfortably before picking back up where he’d left off. This continued as they kept talking, Starscream occasionally losing his train of thought as he shifted his hips and tried to get comfortable again.

“Are you alright, Starscream?” Optimus finally asked, watching with some concern as the seeker winced and rubbed at his back.

“Yes.” Starscream shot back, twisting his torso a little to try and stretch out tight back cables. “At this point, everything is sore all the time anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Thundercracker lifted his head from his datapad to look at his trine-leader, poking at their bond to try and see what was wrong. He was picking up a mix of frustration, anxiety, and something. . .else. “You sure, Star?”

“What did I say, I’m fine!” Starscream insisted, throwing his servos in the air. “I swear to Primus, if one more person asks me that-“

Whatever he was going to say next was lost as Starscream twisted to better glare at his wingmate and felt something. .. snap inside him. His thighs were suddenly wet and sticky, and the dull cramps that had been bothering him all cycle became sharper and more insistent.

Optics wide, Starscream reached a hand down between his legs and stared when it came back glistening with fluid.

“Starscream!” Both Optimus and Thundercracker were out of their seats and to his side in an instant.

“I-“ Starscream coughed and reset his vocalizer, voice faint and full of static. “I think my seal just broke.”


	9. Chapter 9

Starscream thought he was more than ready for the eggs he was carrying to come out, but now that the moment was imminent, all he could think was that he wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for the sparklings to be outside of him, where it would be harder to protect them. To keep them safe.

His engines whined in distress as a powerful contraction made him curl up on the couch, clutching his middle. Inside him, twelve tiny sparks flared their confusion at sensing so much fear from their carrier. Starscream felt an instinctual need to comfort them, but couldn’t quite manage to transmit anything close to calm or soothing.

“Shhh, Starscream. It’s alright, you’re alright.” Suddenly, Thundercracker was there, deep voice rumbling in his audial as a hand stroked his wing gently. “We’ll be able to hold the eggs soon enough. Skywarp will be so excited.”

That got a shaky smile from Starscream, the silver seeker imagining his trinemate lovingly cradling one of their seekerlings in his arms. As if summoned by the thought, there was a flash of purple light and aforementioned trinemate teleported into the room.

“TC said the eggs are coming!” Skywarp shouted excitedly, far too keyed up to remember something like an ‘indoor voice.’ He threw himself over Starscream’s wings with a happy trill and gave his trine-leader an upside-down kiss. “Come on, we should get you to your nest!”

Starscream wanted to protest that their berth was not a _nest_, but there wasn’t much point. He’d become rather pre-occupied with the arrangement of the blankets and pillows as of late, spending joors during the dark-cycles moving and re-arranging the plush fabrics to some specific shape only known to his base instincts. The circular mound with its shallow center depression really did look rather like a nest at this point.

Thundercracker and Skywarp did their best to lever their trine-leader off the couch, but Starscream found that his legs wouldn’t support him. An uncomfortable pressure was growing in his pelvic girdle, the eggs shifting lower in preparation to come out. He didn’t particularly want them to come out on the couch.

“Here, allow me.” Optimus stepped forward, suddenly reminding the three seekers that the Prime was there, witnessing all of this as well. Starscream mumbled in embarrassment as Optimus slid an arm under his knees and behind his back, lifting him from the couch with only a slight grunt of effort. The Winglord was still quite heavy, even for a convoy-class worker frame, but Optimus managed to carry him from the main room and into the berth room, settling him down into his nest while Thundercracker and Skywarp hovered nervously behind him.

“I’ve contacted Ratchet, he’s on his way here now.” Optimus stepped back from the nest, allowing the two anxious seekers to attend to their trine-leader. “Unless you need anything else from me-?”

Starscream managed to raise an arm and wave a dismissal. “You can go.” The last thing he needed was to have the Prime watching as he struggled to expel spherical objects from his _valve_. Having his gestational seal break in front of the mech, and followed by having to be carried to his berth, was humiliating enough.

“Congratulations again, Starscream. I can’t wait to meet the little ones.” Warmth filled Optimus Prime’s voice as he stepped out of the apartment.

Waiting for him directly outside was Slipstream. The seeker Lieutenant had her arms crossed and optics narrowed suspiciously as she regarded the big grounder. “You are concluding your meeting with Lord Starscream unusually early today.”

Optimus was rather unsurprised to discover how closely the other seekers had been watching his meetings with their Lord. All of them were clearly rather protective of Starscream, especially now. “There’s no need to be concerned. During our discussion, his gestational seal broke and he went into labor. I understand he’d rather not have me watching him lay a clutch of eggs.”

“Lord Starscream is having the sparklings?!” Nacelle popped up behind her trine-leader, a look of glee on her face. She immediately activated her comm and opened a line to every other seeker on the planet. ::Everyone! Lord Starscream is in labor! The sparklings are coming!::

Optimus wisely decided to leave the building before he became trapped by crowds of excited jets. Tromping down the flights of stairs as quickly as his large frame could manage, Optimus emerged out onto the street just as Ratchet pulled up and transformed.

“Let me guess,” Ratchet grouched, staring up at the tall apartment building in front of him. Colorful wings were starting to crowd the sky around it as seekers flocked back to the building. “Starscream is on the top floor.”

“He is.” Optimus confirmed. “It’s a bit of a climb, I understand that re-activating the lifts has not been a high priority for the seekers.”

“Like frag I’m climbing all the way up there,” Ratchet grumbled and sent a comm to Starscream, ::I’m at the building. Send your trinemate down to get me, I’m not takin’ the stairs::

There was a ping on the communication channel to show that the message had been received, though he didn’t get a verbal response. Not that Ratchet particularly expected one, Starscream was probably a little busy at the moment.

Skywarp materialized a few steps away a moment later, optics brightening when he spotted the medic. “Great, you’re here!” The black and purple seeker grabbed Ratchet by the arm, and with the tank-wrenching sensation of being yanked through a warp gate, the two reappeared in the trine’s berthroom.

Ratchet took a click to compose himself once Skywarp let go of him, doing a quick check to make sure all of himself had successfully made the jump, before focusing on his patient. Starscream was laying on his side in the middle of his nest, vents heaving as he clutched at his belly and whined. Thundercracker was kneeling behind him, massaging his wrings and rumbling his engine soothingly.

“Alright, let’s have a look at you, you big drama queen.” Ratchet approached the berth, a medical scanner in hand.

Starscream snarled as Ratchet encouraged him to roll onto his back. “I’m in labor, I think I’m allowed some drama!”

“Calm down, you’re fine.” Ratchet patted his thigh absently as he spread the jet’s legs to get a look at his valve. Skywarp, meanwhile, shuffled himself up to the head of the berth to pet his trine-leader’s helm and did his best to catch Starscream’s servos before claws could dig into the medic.

“Your calipers are opening up well, and the eggs seem to be moving into position.” Ratchet reassured the seekers as he retreated from between Starscream’s legs, “The best thing to do now is just to relax and let your body prepare to push those eggs out.”

“Relax?” Starscream made an attempt to flail his legs and kick the medic, but was thwarted by Thundercracker throwing his weight over his thighs. “Give me some painkillers, you sadist, maybe then I’ll _relax_!”

“I can give you something to calm you down, but painkillers can interrupt the contractions.” Ratchet pulled out a small energon cube and added some supplements to it before handing it to Starscream. “Here, sip at this. You’ll need your energy anyway. Twelve eggs are probably going to take awhile.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Starscream tugged one of his hands free from Skywarp’s to take the cube. He took a long sip of supplement-laced energon, managing to swallow before another awful clenching of his internals had him quickly passing it off to one of his wingmates. Groaning loudly, Starscream pressed his face into the blankets of his nest.

Skywarp crooned and released his trine-leader’s other hand to better massage Starscream’s chest and middle. Thundercracker rumbled and set aside the energon cube so that it wouldn’t get spilled while he tried to comfort his laboring wingmate.

“That’s good, keep that up.” Ratchet encouraged. “The calmer you keep him, the easier his internals will adjust.”

“This doesn’t feel easy.” Starscream protested, complaints muffled by the fabric his face was still pressed into. His internal bits were busy slowly transforming into a configuration best for pushing out eggs, every step of which was nauseatingly unpleasant. Every part of him below the chest was sore as parts were shunted into places they had no business being.

Thundercracker and Skywarp kept up their ministrations as Starscream shifted uncomfortably in his nest, claws digging into the bedding and legs twisting in the blankets as he changed position every few clicks.

Finally, Starscream ended up on his hands and knees, belly pressing into the cushions of his nest as he felt something _shift_ inside him. There was suddenly an intense pressure building inside him, and he edged his legs wider as he felt an inescapable urge to _push_.

“Ratchet!” Starscream clutched the hands of his wingmates tight as all of the cabling in his back tightened, wings lifting high and stressed.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” Ratchet reassured, rubbing one hand down the seeker’s spinal strut. “Everything is in place now, those eggs are ready to come out. When you feel the next contraction, push with it.”

The next contraction came like an iron band tightening around his middle, gestation chamber working hard to push the eggs inside down and out. Starscream felt the first one press against the opening of his gestation chamber and hissed at the burning stretch.

“Come on, you can do it!” Skywarp encouraged. “I can’t wait to see what the eggs look like! Just gotta shove that first one out of there.”

“I’ll shove my fist up your- aarrgh!” Starscream couldn’t finish his threat, not with the contractions coming hard and fast now. The egg in his birth canal slid further down, its smooth surface alighting his sensors in a confusing mixture of pleasure and pain.

“I can see the egg,” Ratchet crouched himself behind the laboring jet, gently spreading the lips of Starscream’s valve to better observe the laying process. The egg was coming faster than a sparkling would, presumably due to the lack of shoulders or other awkward protrusions. All the better for Starscream, who had twelve of the things to push out.

Another intense push from Starscream and the egg slid out into Ratchet’s waiting servos. He quickly produced a clean rag to wipe off the lubricant and fluids covering it, systems focusing on scanning the little being. Inside the egg, the sparkling’s readings were strong, little spark flaring out as it searched for a familiar signal.

Ratchet quickly handed the egg to Starscream, who released the servos of his wingmates to take his firstborn in his arms. The three seekers stared in awe at their egg, which seemed so small and light in Starscream’s hands. Its surface was a light silver, with swirls of orange and yellow decorating the intricate plating.

“Oh, wow. It’s so. . . beautiful,” Skywarp murmured, reaching out a hand to gently caress the egg. The surface was warm and smooth, the little EM field of the sparkling reaching out with a sense of curiosity. Skywarp immediately responded with comfort/protection/love, receiving a pulse of innocent, pure love in return. “Aww, I love you too, little guy!”

“It’s perfect,” Thundercracker agreed, petting the egg reverently, “It’s so small.” The shell was only a little larger than his fist, and seemed much too tiny for a whole sparkling to emerge from.

“The egg might be small, but it’s very dense.” Ratchet reassured. “That egg is packed with nanites and nutrients and everything a sparkling needs to grow strong. Their carrier made sure they have everything they need.”

“Why doctor, are you going soft on me?” Starscream huffed a laugh, which trailed off into a groan as the eggs still inside him shifted around. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get much of a break between eggs.

“Hush, you.” Ratchet flicked Starscream’s wingtip reproachfully, though it didn’t have much heart in it. “Never thought I’d see you, of all mechs, ending the war for the sake of sparklings.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to end up like this either.” Starscream handed the egg to Thundercracker as he felt the contractions getting stronger again. A faint smile tugged at his lips as the egg was settled in the blankets next to him, the golden swirls on its surface glowing in the light of the berth room. “But I wouldn’t change it.”

Mortifyingly, Starscream could feel his optics starting to burn. The last thing he wanted was to start sobbing in front of the medic, but there were so many emotions bombarding his processor that it seemed like he didn’t have much choice. As the next egg moved into position, stretching him out once again, Starscream felt wetness trail down his cheeks.

“Aww, poor sweetspark.” Skywarp cooed and kissed the crest of Starscream’s helm. “We’re all gonna love these little guys so much.”

“And we’re so thankful you’ve done all this for us.” Thundercracker murmured against Starscream’s audial, rubbing a hand up and down his trine-leader’s spinal strut as it flexed harshly with the clenching of his internals.

Starscream let out a sob into Skywarp’s chest, collapsing into his trinemate as the next egg slipped free of his valve. Ratchet quickly gave this one a clean bill of health as well, cleaning it off and placing it gently next to the first egg.

“This one is so different.” Skywarp said with wonder, softly petting this one as well. The second egg had a dark, shining black surface with swirls of dark blue. The spark inside eagerly pulsed in curiosity as Skywarp extended his field to envelop the sparkling in affection.

“Do you think each of them will have their own, unique colors?” Thundercracker looked at the two little eggs nestled together; their opposite coloration rather striking.

“At least we’ll be able to tell them apart.” Starscream commented, optics dim as his vents worked hard to cool his frame down.

“I assume it’s a sign of what colors the sparklings will be when they hatch.” Ratchet observed as he located the cube of energon from earlier and pressed it against Starscream’s lips. “Here, drink. That’s two down, ten to go.”

“Uuugh,” Starscream gave the medic a half-hearted glare, but obediently sipped down the energon. He’d need to keep his strength up, after all.

The eggs continued to come through the rest of the cycle, until Starscream felt utterly wrung out and spent. He got so used to the insistent pushing of the contractions, it took him awhile to notice when they finally ceased. Wearily, he looked over the eggs cuddled up to his side and counted them. Twelve. All twelve of them were there now, and he was finished.

Starscream collapsed limply into his nest and threw an arm around his eggs, feeling their sparks pulse bright and strong against his field. At that moment, it was all he needed as he slipped into recharge.

“He’s probably going to sleep for a while.” Ratchet checked on Starscream’s vitals, which reported that the jet was exhausted but would be okay with some rest and energon. “His body needs to recharge so his self-repair can work on restoring his gestation systems to their normal, dormant state. He should also stay off his pedes as much as possible for the next decaorn or so, his pelvic girdle is going to be pretty sore.”

Thundercracker nodded, indicating that he, at least, was listening to the medic’s orders. Skywarp was still too distracted clucking over the eggs to really notice anything else around him. If he was honest, Thundercracker wanted to join his wingmate, but as the responsible member of the trine he instead joined Ratchet in cleaning up Starscream. He couldn’t leave his trine-leader and the blankets under him coated in gestational fluid.

The soiled fabrics were removed and put aside to be washed later, and Thundercracker carefully wiped down Starscream’s inner thighs and valve. He mumbled and shifted a little, but didn’t wake even as his wingmate closed his panel and tucked a pillow between his legs.

“What are you going to do with all of them?” Ratchet asked curiously, watching Skywarp fuss with the cushioning around the eggs.

“Can’t keep them all ourselves.” No matter how much Thundercracker really wanted to, he had to be realistic. Twelve sparklings were far too many for a single trine to raise alone. “I’ll put out a call to the other trines, see who wants to adopt one.”

“Well, when they do, get them to call me to set up a check up schedule.” Ratchet gave the eggs one last look over, confirming that they were still healthy and happy, before turning to go. “Comm me if anything happens, otherwise you should all get some rest. Make sure you get a cube or two into Starscream when he wakes up.”

With that, Ratchet walked out of the apartment and right into a crowd of anxious, waiting jets. The medic stepped back in surprise, dormant battle protocols desperately wanting to activate as he was pinned by the stares of dozens of red optics.

None of the seekers staring at him were acting hostile, though. Only curious and rather worried. Finally, the golden form of Sunstorm shoved his way to the front.

“How is my brother?” The seeker asked, a mixture of anxiety and excitement. “Is he alright?”

“And the eggs?” Another seeker spoke up. “Has he finished laying the eggs?”

“Yes, how are the sparklings?” This from a third seeker near the back.

All at once, it was though a dam had broken and suddenly questions were bombarding Ratchet from all directions. Finally, the old medic held up both hands and blipped his siren in warning. Mercifully, the jets went quiet, wings rattling with anticipation.

“Yes, all twelve eggs have been laid.” Ratchet reassured them. “All are perfectly healthy. Starscream is fine, just tired. He’s going to recharge at least until tomorrow, you’ll just have to wait to see him until he’s had a chance to recover a little. Now shoo!”

Reluctantly, the jets dispersed back to their own habsuites and Ratchet shook his head with a sigh. He wanted to be annoyed at the display, but couldn’t quite summon up the irritation required. Privately, Ratchet suspected his old, hardened spark had softened a little that afternoon. After so many long vorns of war, of patching up battle-wounded comrades only to throw them back out into the fray once more, of watching his friends go grey on the medical slab, unable to save them. . .well, it had been refreshing to welcome new life into the world, instead of watching it go out. Seeing the joy on the faces of proud new creators regarding their creations for the first time (even if they were still only eggs) had reminded Ratchet just why he had become a medic in the first place. He wasn’t even too angry when he realized that he now had to walk down all of the flights of stairs of the apartment to get back to ground level.

Starscream came online sluggishly, processor struggling to boot up as he shifted under the covers heaped atop him. He felt like he’d been run over by an Omega Sentinel, his hips in particular giving a sharp throb as he stretched his legs. The seeker ran his hand curiously over the warm, round little objects that were snuggled in close to his side, trying to remember what had happened-

The eggs! Starscream shot awake as the events of the previous cycle suddenly returned to him, gaze flickering immediately to the eggs nestled securely under his wing. All twelve were still there, happy and content in the nest, and Starscream allowed himself to relax marginally. He continued to stare at the eggs, observing the different, swirling colors that decorated each once, until he was drawn out of his reverie by a deep voice.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Thundercracker gently sat himself down on the berth, a cube of energon in his hands. “Hungry?”

Starscream realized that he was, in fact, ravenous, and took the cube from his wingmate. With a groan, he managed to push himself up on elbow to better drink the energon. Every cable and strut in his frame protested moving, but at the same time he felt incredibly light and free. Amazing what a difference no longer lugging around twelve eggs could make.

“Where’s Skywarp?” Starscream rasped once he’d finished off the energon, dispersing the empty cube with a squeeze of his fist.

“With Slipstream and Sunstorm,” Thundercracker explained, picking up one of the eggs and cradling it close. “They’re interrogating all of the trines, finding which ones are willing, and competent enough, to take on one of the sparklings.”

Starscream hummed an acknowledgement, thoroughly distracted by the sight of his wingmate with an egg in his arms. He hadn’t expected to feel so affectionate towards the eggs, still uncomfortable with the idea that he had laid eggs in general, but he couldn’t deny the love in his spark for all of the little ones. Even though they weren’t sparkling-shaped, he could sense their sparks and teek their little fields. They were very alive.

Thundercracker crooned to the egg in his arms, filling his field with the affection he felt for the little spark, a silly smile spreading across his face when the feeling was returned. Without even realizing what he was doing, the blue seeker’s cockpit slid open and he tucked the egg inside. Upon returning to Cybertron, all of the seekers had shed their Earth alt-modes to return to their original tetrajet forms, meaning that now, instead of a useless pilot seat and display console, Thundercracker had a small nook inside his cockpit. A padded little compartment the perfect size for an egg.

Glass sliding shut again, information popped up on Thundercracker’s HUD monitoring the sparkling’s temperature, health, and emotional state. He raised a hand to his chest and looked down with a thoughtful little, “Huh. That’s a thing.”

“Are you incubating the egg in your cockpit?” Starscream asked, scientific curiosity piqued.

“Apparently.” A part of Thundercracker’s programming was keeping close watch on the sparkling’s status, and it did a lot to sooth the protective instincts still at the forefront of his processor. “Have a bunch of sensors in there, keeping track of everything.”

“Makes sense.” Starscream reasoned. “It’s safe, secure, has precise temperature controls, and keeps the egg close to an adult spark.” He had an urge to try it himself, but he had not been able to change back to his previous alt-mode while carrying and was still missing a fair portion of his torso armor besides.

Thundercracker looked over the other eggs, wishing he could cradle them all, but there was only room in his cockpit for one. He settled for sitting on the berth and curling up next to his trine-leader and the rest of their clutch.

The two seekers relaxed in silence, and Starscream was nearly back into recharge when the “Vvop” of displaced air signaled Skywarp’s return to the apartment.

“Star!” Skywarp rushed eagerly into the berthroom, “You’re awake!”

“I am now,” Starscream muttered, onlining his optics again. “How did the interviews go?”

“Pretty good!” Skywarp chirped, hopping up onto the berth to pet each of the eggs. “Think we’ve got homes for most of these little guys. All the trines are pretty eager to help raise one.” The black and purple seeker’s optics narrowed, lips moving silently as he counted the eggs. “Wait, aren’t there supposed to be twelve? Are we missing an egg? We’re missing an egg!”

“Skywarp, calm down,” Thundercracker placed both hands on his wingmate’s shoulders, trying to keep the other seeker from going full panic. “The other egg is perfectly safe, I have it right here.” He tapped his cockpit, where the egg was just visible beneath the tinted glass.

“Wait, what?” Skywarp stared down at his wingmate’s chest, leaning in closer to peer at the egg. “You can do that?”

“I guess we’re meant to incubate the eggs like this.” Thundercracker shrugged, one hand caressing the glass of his cockpit. Inside, the sparkling was a warm, gentle weight with a calm, content field.

“Oh! I want to try!” Skywarp looked over the clutch of eggs, clearly trying to make the difficult decision of which to choose to cuddle. Finally, he decided on the black egg, picking it up with gentle servos and tucking it into his cockpit. Humming happily, he purred to the little egg as he settled on the berth with his mates and their clutch. “I wish I could hold them all.”

“They will all get a trine to love them tomorrow.” Starscream reassured. He was far too tired to deal with over-affectionate seekers today. For now, all the eggs were warm and happy in the nest, and he was content to curl around them and recharge. His mates joined him, wings protectively mantling the eggs, keeping them safe and enveloping them with their love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Just a cute little bonus chapter for Christmas

The announcement had gone out to all the seeker forces, that it was time for the qualified trines to come and adopt an egg. Everyone was besides themselves with excitement, but had been told sternly they would have to wait until they were called in.

As the ones who had helped Skywarp interview trines, Sunstorm and Slipstream received first pick. They were called into the Winglord’s apartment along with their trines, escorted back to the berthroom by Thundercracker, who reminded them to be quiet and calm. Starscream was still quite sore and tired. He hadn’t even been able to get out of berth that morning, and had instead settled for reclining somewhat regally in his pile of pillows and insisted on getting a quick clean and polish from his wingmates. There was no excuse for looking frumpy in front of his subjects.

Nacelle and Sunstorm, the two most excitable seekers in the group, barely managed to keep themselves in control as they eagerly rushed up to the berth. The rest of their trines trailed closely behind, all looking at the clutch of eggs in wonder.

“You appear to be well, brother,” Sunstorm tore his golden optics away from the eggs long enough to address Starscream. “And what a wonderful gift you have given us. The first new seekers in a millennia; truly a gift from Primus!”

“You’re just happy you won’t be the youngest anymore.” Ion Storm said playfully, giving his trinemate a nudge.

“Oh, look at them, Nova!” Nacelle whispered reverently, trailing her fingers across each egg, “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Yes, they are,” Nova Storm put an arm around their trinemate indulgently, “But we can only choose one.”

The two turned to look at their trine-leader, but Slipstream just shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

As Nova Storm and Nacelle deliberated, Acid Storm’s trine were doing the same. The three Rainmakers regarded each egg in turn, teeking each little spark to look for the one that best matched their own. It was how seekers found their trine-mates, after all, by finding those two others who their spark resonated perfectly with, so why not do the same to find their sparkling?

Finally, Sunstorm reached towards one particular egg. He hesitated at the last moment, though, and pulled his servos back. “That one, Ion. Pick up that one.” Sunstorm regarded his white servos, softly glowing with radiation, and let them drop to his sides.

Ion Storm gently lifted the little egg and cradled it in his arms, looking down at the shades of green that swirled across its surface. “Look, it matches you, Acid Storm.”

“So it does,” A smile quirked Acid Storm’s lips as he caressed the egg. “Come on, Sun. The sparkling should know your spark signature too.”

It was very rare for Sunstorm to be anything less than absolutely, boastfully confident, so seeing him hesitate drew everyone’s attention. “I- I’m not sure if I-“

“You won’t harm the sparkling.” Starscream spoke up. “The eggshells are thick and well-shielded. As long as you don’t put it next to your spark, or flare your power, it will be fine.”

Reassured by this, Sunstorm finally reached forward to gently run his fingers over the egg. The sparkling inside reached out with gentle curiosity, the three Rainmakers huddling close to reassure the little one with their own fields and sparks. Clearly, they had found their sparkling.

Nova Storm and Nacelle, meanwhile, had gravitated towards an egg decorated in shades of blue. The two were holding the egg between them and encouraging Slipstream to join in, which the more aloof seeker finally did with an indulgent smile. Two sparklings had found their families. Eight more to go.

Trines continued to be called into the Winglord’s habsuite throughout the cycle, all eager to see the eggs and to choose their own. Many of them had also brought energon treats for their Winglord, which kept Starscream more than happy as he supervised the adoptions. Each trine made the decision with the thought and care that it required, though Starscream did have to stop one or two from bickering over who got to carry the egg in their cockpit first.

“That is a sparkling, not a play thing.” Starscream snarled, voice commanding despite his position reclined on the berth, “You will treat your sparkling with kindness, and respect, not fight over it. They need good examples to look up to as they mature.”

Cloudburst, Downdraft, and Rainfall all nodded sheepishly, Cloudburst gently tucking their egg into his cockpit. “Yes, Lord Starscream.”

Finally, the last egg had been collected and Starscream could relax once more. Skywarp and Thundercracker were quick to join him on the berth, both able to feel just how tired he still was.

“You’re sure you want to keep two?” Starscream looked between his wingmates, optics lingering on the eggs cradled in their cockpits. He had initially planned on only keeping one, but Thundercracker and Skywarp had been reluctant to give theirs up.

“I think we can handle it.” Skywarp said confidently, one finger tracing the seams of his chest. “There’s three of us, after all.”

“Do you think we should name them?” Thundercracker asked, reclining against Skywarp comfortably. “Feels weird to just think of them as ‘the eggs’.”

Starscream shrugged. “No reason not to give them their sparkling names now.”

His wingmates opened their cockpits and set both eggs in the blankets, the three seekers looking at them contemplatively. Seekerling names were typically short and related to flight, weather, or atmosphere in some way. They didn’t necessarily need to mean anything profound, though it would be nice if there was some relation to the name chosen and the sparkling in question. (Infamously, one of the last cold-construct batches produced in the Vosian factory had all been given the name ‘Storm’ plus a batch number to start off with. Hence why the seeker forces were now inundated with seekers who had ‘Storm’ in their name)

“What about Sun for this one?” Starscream offered, running his fingertips over the silver and orange egg. As the one who had carried them, he figured he should have first dibs on naming at least one.

“Suits him.” Thundercracker agreed.

“As long as your crazy brother doesn’t get it into his processor that we named the sparkling after him.” Skywarp muttered, turning his attention to the other egg. “Moon would match Sun well, but that doesn’t work well with the egg being all black and stuff. How about Night?”

“Night.” Starscream agreed, relaxing back down into the cushions around the two eggs. “Welcome to the world, Sun and Night.”

The seekers gave each egg a kiss before curling up protectively around them and idling down into recharge. Sun and Night were nestled comfortably in the middle of their parent Trine, knowing that they were warm, safe, and loved.


	11. Chapter 11

As Ratchet had predicted, it took Starscream about a decacycle after laying the eggs to feel recovered enough to move around on his own further than the wasracks or oil bath. Finally, though, the sharp ache in his pelvic girdle had faded into just a faint soreness, and the swelling in his abdomen had gone down until he almost looked normal again.

Yawning widely, Starscream stretched out every cable and servo in his frame, relishing the ability to do so without pain or awkwardness. He fluffed all of his plating, working out any tension or stiffness left in his frame before giving a little shake. At last, he was back to his graceful, sleek, aerodynamic self.

Slipping from the berth, Starscream bounced on his toes for a minute before strutting out of the berthroom and into the main room of the apartment. His wingmates were both there, watching some sort of program on the vidscreen. Clearly, someone had managed to import Earthen media to Cybertron.

“What _are_ you watching?” Starscream sneered, watching the onscreen squishies run about a landing helicopter wildly.

“It’s a show about a wartime hospital encampment.” Thundercracker explained briefly, scribbling something down on the datapad in his lap. “I got a ‘bot on Earth to record it for me.”

“They do a lot more prank pullin’ and tellin’ jokes than repairin’ people, though.” Skywarp tore his gaze from the screen long enough to give his trine-leader a smile. “Sun and Night seem to like it okay.” Both eggs were cradled in his lap, right where the warm puffs of air from his pectoral vents could wash over them.

“They don’t have optics or audials,” Starscream replied drily, “They’d enjoy just about anything.”

Skywarp stuck his tongue out at his trine-leader before tipping his chin to address the eggs “Don’t you listen to your carrier, he’s just grumpy.”

“That’s because I have an appointment with the medic today and want to go for a flight first, if you two are quite finished being lazy couch lumps.”

The offer to go out for a flight got both seekers to get up off the couch. Thundercracker paused the video, and the eggs were tucked securely back into cockpits to keep them safe. Starscream led the way out onto the balcony, wings flicking in the light breeze that passed over his sensors.

Starscream’s pace quickened as he stepped out into the open air, until he took two running steps and leapt from the balcony and into empty space. He let himself freefall for a moment before igniting his flight engines and shooting into the sky with a scream from his thrusters and a whoop of joy from his vocalizer.

Thundercracker and Skywarp followed their trine-leader slightly more sedately, mindful of the eggs in their cockpits, but couldn’t resist rolling and twirling into the sky. Starscream’s joy at being able to fly properly again was infectious, zinging across their spark bond and putting grins on all their faces. Starscream didn’t have all his armor back and still couldn’t transform, so the three remained in root mode as they played in the skies over Iacon.

The sound of their engines brought other seekers up into the air as well, every free trine in the city leaving what they were doing to join their Lord in his dance. On the ground, Autobots stopped to watch the wheeling display of color overhead in wonder. Never had they seen seekers fly for the simple joy of it. While it would probably be many vorns before the sound of highly tuned flight engines didn’t have them reflexively checking for their weapons, even the grounders could appreciate the sight once they realized they weren’t under attack.

Even seekers couldn’t skydance forever, though, as eventually low fuel warnings forced them to land and return to their duties. Starscream was still recovering from carrying and laying, so no matter how much he relished finally being able to fly free from all the weight he had been lugging around for so long, he was the first to have to leave the sky and return to his habsuite with his trine.

Drawing a cube from their dispenser, Starscream hummed as he sucked down energon free from the grittiness of the supplements he’d been on during his carrying.

They didn’t have too long to relax if Starscream wanted to make his appointment with Ratchet on time, though, so once the three were sufficiently fueled they again took flight to get to the small medical clinic that Ratchet had opened.

The building was rather decrepit looking, like most of Iacon, but significant work had been done to scrub the rust off and the inside was clean and well lit. A suitable medical center had been a priority during the rebuild, and Ratchet had wasted no time setting up a medbay to his exacting standards.

Walking into the clinic, the three seekers were greeted by the junior medic. First Aid gave them a wave and gestured them to one of the exam rooms, where Ratchet was waiting for them.

“Well then, looks like you’re feeling better.” The old medic commented as Starscream deftly hopped up onto the medical berth.

“Advantages of a superior frametype.” Starscream responded loftily, wings flicking as a medical scan washed over him.

“Or you seekers having a habit of pushing your limits.” Ratchet commented, though he didn’t frown too much at the scan results. “Your systems are recovering as expected, however, even considering the size of your clutch. It’ll be a few decacycles yet before you’re totally back to normal, though, so don’t go stressing yourself too much.”

“Fine, fine.” Starscream waved a hand dismissively, “What I really want to know is if I can get my armor back. I’m sick of not being able to transform and fly properly.”

“Yes, yes, I can replace your armor.”

Starscream endured the replacement of his armor with only a token amount of complaining, mostly over the uncomfortable squeeze on the still- swollen parts of his protoform. He’d take it if it meant _finally_ getting to truly fly as only a seeker could once more.

As Starscream strutted about and admired the shine of his cockpit glass, Ratchet had Thundercracker and Skywarp set their eggs down on the medberth so he could scan the little ones.

“Sun and Night are doing very well,” Ratchet complimented, an actual smile on his face as he looked over the eggs. Though they didn’t look any different on the outside, their sparks had clearly grown stronger as they flared in curiosity at Ratchet’s touch and the development of their protoforms was clear on the scans. “Look, you can see their wings starting to grow in.” He turned the screen of the scanner so the seekers could see, pointing to a pair of stubby little struts sticking out from the sparkling’s frames.

“I want to see!” Starscream declared loudly and obnoxiously, shoving his way between his two wingmates to look at the screen.

“Look at their little wings!” Skywarp squeeled, too excited over the sight of their growing sparklings to be too upset at his trine-leader roughly pushing him aside. “Star, look! They have wings!”

“Of course they have wings, they’re seekers.” Starscream muttered, though his attempt at a derisive tone was utterly ruined by the huge grin on his face. “They’re seekers.”

“They’re beautiful,” Thundercracker agreed, reaching out to caress both eggs, “Any idea when they will hatch, doctor?”

“Hard to say, I’ll have to track their development a bit longer to make a better estimate.” Ratchet allowed the proud parents to pick their eggs back up. “But, for now, they seem to be growing at the same rate as a normally gestated sparkling would.”

Ratchet had the medical scanner print out a hard copy of the sparkling’s scans, which Skywarp eagerly subspaced, then let the seekers go with a reminder to make sure the other trines visited with their eggs for checkups as well.

Starscream strutted into the officer’s meeting radiating smug confidence. His wings were held high and he had been polished until every plane of his armor shone. To complete the image, a golden circlet with a sparkling ruby at its center sat upon his helm. (Starscream had wanted a huge, obnoxious crown, but his wingmates had fortunately managed to talk him down to something slightly less ostentatious.)

Everyone else seated around the table in the meeting room stopped their conversations and stared as Starscream posed for a moment, his wingmates standing just behind him looking equally as polished and proper, and Starscream preened under their attention. Yes, let the magnificence of his presence erase their memories of when he had been egg-heavy and unwieldy, a source of comedy to all.

It was Optimus Prime who spoke first, his blue optics crinkling in a smile as he greeted the Winglord and Decepticon leader. “It is good to see you looking better, Starscream. How are the sparklings?”

“They are quite well,” Starscream responded properly, fighting to keep a smile off his face as he remembered how, just that morning, he and his trinemates had sat and delicately washed both eggs before attending to their own plating. The solvent had really brought out their colors, enhancing the near-glow of Sun’s golden swirls and the glitter of Night’s onyx black. The sparklings had also clearly enjoyed their cleaning, making Starscream wonder just how much they could feel what was going on outside their eggs.

“I am glad to hear,” Optimus nodded before turning to the rest of the officers seated there, “Now then, I believe everyone is here. There is much to discuss concerning the reconstruction of Cybertron.”

Starscream elegantly took his seat and waved his wingmates out of the room with a flick of his wrist. Yes, there was much to discuss.

When all was said and done, Starscream actually found himself enjoying the Officer’s Meetings. Finally, he had a venue where he could voice his opinions and not be ignored, or worse, outright beaten, for them. Prowl made for a surprisingly satisfying debate partner, and Prime didn’t lord his ideas over anyone else’s. After so long as the oft belittled Second-in-Command to a Tyrant, Starscream thought he might have actually found a place where he could really make a difference.

The major victory from the meeting was securing apprenticeships and training for many of his seekers. Before the war, only a very narrow range of careers and fields of study had been open to his frametype, things like engineering and the medical field had been considered too complex for their “simple-minded” processors. Now that they were no longer needed for war, however, many of the seekers were showing interest in such things. Nacelle was surprisingly eager over engineering and architecture, and several seekers had asked if they could become medics. Others expressed a desire to get training in science, in art, even in construction. All things that were now needed in their post-war world.

Of course, the other new ‘career’ many of the seekers were starting on was that of parenthood. A light-hearted competition had started in the apartment building (jokingly re-named “Little Vos”) to see who could invent the best sparkling-toy, and a recreation room had been carved out of one of the lower floors which was often filled with trines relaxing and conversing. A nest in the corner was provided where eggs could be safely set down to ‘socialize’ and be cooed over by adult seekers when their caretaker trines had to be at work and couldn’t bring their little ones with.

The reconstruction of Iacon continued at a rapid pace as more and more mecha returned from distant corners of the galaxy. Some of the Autobots and Decepticons took a little while to get used to the idea of peace, but things were starting to really settle down. Bars and stores opened, the streets were lit during the dark-cycles again, and chatter and laughter filled the air as mecha went about their business. Even areas that hadn’t been worked on yet seemed to be improving, as though Cybertron itself was self-repairing now that the presence of so many of its children at peace had brought life back to the planet.

With Iacon steadily improving, thoughts occasionally turned to the other city-states of Cybertron. There was very little left of most of them, orbital strikes having wiped some of them from the face of the planet entirely. It still didn’t stop Starscream from dreaming of Vos, and of bringing his seekers home.

One cycle, with all of his meetings rescheduled and some free time on his servos, Starscream took off from Iacon with his wingmates at his side to go and see what was left of Vos. The Rainmakers flanked them to the left, Slipstream and her trine to the right, as extra security against anything that might still be roaming out in the wastes. Though most of Cybertron’s mecha-fauna had gone extinct during the war, there was no telling what might have developed during the Autobot’s and Decepticon’s long absence. Rabid turbo-foxes were only the tip of the theoretical iceberg. No one wanted to encounter shambling empties, scraplet nests, or sparkeaters that might be lurking under the surface.

Rust-pocked fields of grey metal whisked by beneath the seekers as they cruised overhead, only the occasional crumbling abandoned settlement or decaying war machine distracting from the featureless landscape. Once, the surface of Cybertron had glowed gold and busy inter-city highways teemed with traders and travelers. Now, all was silent outside Iacon.

There had been a time when the spires of Vos had been visible above the horizon for a great distance. Now, the broken remnants of the city were hidden by a grey haze until the seekers were nearly on top of it.

Though Starscream could vividly remember the day that Vos fell, the sight of his destroyed city still caused a pang of sorrow in his spark. He led his seekers over the city to the center before transforming to land. The ruins of the Winglord’s spire lay all around, jagged pieces of metal and glass littering the ground.

Very few of Vos’s buildings had survived the initial bombing, with those that hadn’t been hit by the blast itself having succumbed to the shockwave that followed. Vorns of abandonment had brought down the rest.

The seekers stood there solemnly, looking around with sadness in their optics and in their sparks. Rebuilding the city seemed like an impossible task.

“How grand it must have been when it still stood.” Sunstorm murmured. His only knowledge of the city was that of the ruined husk it now was. Image captures shared by his trinemates could only show so much.

“It was. I remember the first time I saw Vos.” Nacelle spoke with a hushed voice, coolant gathering at the edges of her optics. She had been found by a pair of shuttles as a sparkling and raised in Altihex, victim of a kidnapping case never solved and long lost to time. Still, as with all seekers, Vos had been her true home. “There were so many flightframes, so many seekers. I never wanted to leave again.”

“We will rebuild.” Starscream said, pushing confidence into his voice and stance. “No matter how long it takes, Vos will rise again. Our Sparklings will know their home.”

The other seekers took some comfort in the words of their Winglord, standing for a while longer in the ruins of Vos before returning to Iacon.

Time passed and slowly Cybertronians grew accustomed to peace. Things could never truly go back to the way they had been before the war, four million years of combat had changed all involved permanently, but mecha were managing. A shooting range had opened, featuring sharp-shooter contests for those who could not give up their blasters. The Praxian Bluestreak was a frequent winner, though the only prizes were that of pride. There were also places to spar and fight, dulled weapons and strict judges making sure the friendly competitions did not devolve into the gladiatorial matches of old.

Racing was another popular way to blow off frustration, both among grounders and fliers. A racetrack had been built near the edge of Iacon, and was extremely popular with those who had faster alt-modes among both factions. For the fliers, the entire city was their track, with jets of all descriptions trying to outpace each other as they circled the perimeter of the city. Starscream occasionally joined in, just to remind everyone that he was the Fastest and always would be, though he was usually too busy with running things to indulge himself too much.

No matter how busy Starscream was, though, he still threw down all of his paperwork and rushed home to Little Vos when he received a comm from his wingmates that something was happening with the eggs. There would probably be reprimands from the other officers for breaking the sound barrier while still inside the government building, but that was a concern for later.

Dashing through the door of his habsuite, Starscream ran back to the berthroom, vents heaving as he tried to cool himself down. “What’s happened?”

“Shh!” Thundercracker shushed him from where he was crouched on the berth. In front of him, both eggs rested in the blankets.

“They’re hatching!” Skywarp attempted to whisper, so excited that it came out roughly at the level of a normal speaking voice.

Coming closer, Starscream could now see how the eggs were shaking in their nest. A few cracks appeared on the surface of Sun’s egg, along with a rather determined chirping sound from within. The adult seekers clicked back, encouraging their sparkling to keep going. Next to Sun, his brother wiggled a little harder, but didn’t seem to be progressing quite as quickly.

Both sparklings continued to work hard at hatching with their three parents watching attentively. The eggs split along previously hidden seams, panels shifting and moving with each wiggle, until, finally, there was the sound of a tiny t-cog engaging and the golden egg unfolded into a miniature seeker.

“Aww, there you are little bitlet.” Skywarp cooed, stroking the little helm with one finger. Sun squeaked indignantly and tipped his head back to try and grasp the intruding digit. Alas, the sparkling was not nearly coordinated enough for the effort and only succeeded in toppling over backwards into the cushions.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” Thundercracker soothed, picking up Sun and settling the sparkling into the crook of his elbow. The sparkling blinked sleepily from his new position and yawned widely. Hatching took a lot out of one so small.

“Primus, that’s cute.” Starscream muttered, watching his wingmate tickle the little yellow panel that would one day be a cockpit. Sun did indeed match the colors of his egg, predominantly silver with accents of yellow and gold, and a dark little faceplate just like his carrier.

A happy little squeal from Sun brought about a renewed burst of activity from his sibling on the berth, and a moment later they had a second seekerling to coo over. Night was as dark as his sibling was bright, glimmering black paint set off by dashes of silver and dark blue. He stared up at the adult seekers towering above him, face breaking into a smile when he recognized their sparks.

“Here’s a happy little mechling.” Starscream scooped up Night into his arms, Skywarp plastering himself to his trine-leader to better stroke the seekerling’s tiny wings.

In Thundercracker’s arms, Sun gave an uncomfortable wiggle and let out a plaintive chirp. Then another, louder and more distressed than the first.

“What’s wrong?” Thundercracker’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what could have upset someone so new to the world.

Sun’s arms patted the glass of his caretaker’s cockpit, until it obligingly slid aside to reveal the little compartment where he had been carried about as an egg.

“Do you want back in there?” Thundercracker set the seekerling inside his cockpit, listening as Sun chirped and clicked while seemingly searching for. . . something. There was an odd little pinch as Sun grasped something in his mouth, and then Thundercracker’s systems reported the seekerling drawing on the refined energon in his system. Clearly, there was an auxiliary fueling port back there meant just for sparklings. “Oh. I guess you were just hungry.”

“Huh.” Starscream raised an optical ridge as he opened his own cockpit to place Night inside. Soon, both sparklings were nursing away happily. “Well, that’s quite useful. Saves us from having to synthesize sparkling-grade energon.”

Starscream quickly composed a comm message that Sun and Night had hatched, with details about the hatching and what followed, before sending it out to all of the seekers who had adopted eggs. By the time he was finished with that, both sparklings had finished refueling and were solidly in recharge.

Though not tired himself, at that moment, Starscream had no greater desire than to just lay there on his berth with his wingmates and their sparklings.

The rest of the eggs hatched over the course of the next decacycle, until Little Vos was filled with happy caretakers and chirping sparklings. The recreation room quickly turned into a sparkling playroom, with toys and blankets scattered all about. Seekers were an intensely social frametype, and many spent time in the rec room just to meet the new members of the flock. Slowly, the stressed bonds between seekers began to heal from the war, helped by plenty of free time and long sessions of allo-preening.

Of course, the seekerlings couldn’t stay inside all the time. It was important for them to go outside, to see the sky and feel the air on their sensors. A park, of sorts, had been built near the center of the city and was becoming a popular destination for those who wanted to simply sit and relax. Crops of Praxian Crystals, found by one of the seekers doing fly-over surveys in the ruins of Praxus, were being cultivated in the open spaces. Their light glow and the way they chimed softly in the breeze lent a feeling of peace to the park.

Starscream and his trine were strolling slowly through the crystals with a pair of sleepy sparklings, gently tapping the crystals to make them ring, when a familiar pair of sensor wings were spotted behind a cluster of crystals.

“Prowl,” Starscream greeted cordially with an incline of his helm and a dip of his wings.

“Starscream,” Prowl returned the same way. That they often find themselves on the same side during arguments in the command meetings has tempered the hostility they once shared for each other into a more mutually respectful working relationship.

They will soon have something else in common too. Prowl stepped forward, a hand supporting the heavy curve of his middle as his sensor wings flared to compensate for the extra sparkling weight. Prime had been right about other mecha following Starscream’s example and starting families, but it had come to the surprise of everyone that Prowl was the first to get sparked up.

“Tending the gardens?” Starscream asked with a raised optical ridge. Prowl always seemed like a mech far too enamored with things like planning and paperwork to take time off to grow crystals.

“It was a hobby I had once, back in Praxus.” Prowl’s field and expression don’t change, the levelling of his home city happened a long time ago. “Jazz insists I spend time outside and away from the office anyway. He believes working is detrimental to the carrying process.”

Starscream chuckled despite himself. “Yes, these two were much the same way.” He glanced back towards his wingmates.

That drew Prowl’s attention towards them as well, and something in his expression softened as he gazed at the little sparklings in the seekers’ arms. “And how are your sparklings?”

“Oh, they’re doing great,” Skywarp beamed, “Still can’t recharge through the night without getting’ hungry, but they’re so cute I can’t even get mad about it.”

“Fortunately, our schedules are a little more flexible than Starscream’s.” Thundercracker commented, “Here, this is Sun and Night.” He shifted a bit so that Prowl could get a better look at Sun.

“They are very cute,” Prowl agreed with a nod, hands gently stroking the curve of his own sparkling, “Though, aren’t their names a little. . .brief for seekers?”

Thundercracker chuckled, “That’s just their sparkling names. They’ll get a full name when they show their spark ability or a strong personality trait.”

“I see,” Prowl nodded. “Myself and Jazz have been considering names as well, though we have not settled on anything yet.”

In Skywarp’s arms, Night yawned widely and settled tiredly against the adult seeker’s cockpit glass, optics flickering dimly.

“Aww, so sleepy,” Skywarp gave his son’s little helm a kiss.

“Yep, looks like it’s time to put these two down for a nap,” Starscream nodded briskly to Prowl before the three seekers took off into the air to head back to their apartment.

Watching them leave, Prowl allowed a true smile to surface as he turned back to his gardening. A civil conversation with a trine of Decepticons, who could’ve ever guessed it? Maybe he’d have to contact them about organizing a playdate after his own sparkling was born.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last day of 2019 seemed a perfect time to post the last chapter of this fanfic. A big Thank You to everyone who read/ left kudos/ or commented! You're the people that motivate me to keep writing!

  * Vorns later –

The Council sat around the table in the official meeting room in the government building at Iacon, the various representatives chatting idly as they waited for the meeting to start. In the vorns since the war had ended, many of Cybertron’s colony worlds had gotten back in touch with their original home planet. This required putting together a Council with representatives from each member planet to vote on things like trade, immigration, and tourism policies. There was also a delegate from each of Cybertron’s city-states, of which there were only three. Optimus Prime represented Iacon, while Soundwave spoke for Kaon, where many former Decepticons had settled to rebuild. Currently, the Council was just waiting for the Vosian delegation to arrive, then they could start.

There was a woosh as the door slid open to reveal Winglord Starscream, along with two attendant seekers. Everyone else in the room turned to stare, and it wasn’t just the seeker’s gleaming red plating, or the purple silks draped from his wings, that caught their attention. The heavy, gravid curve of his abdominal plating was unmistakable, Starscream was clearly late into a carrying cycle.

“Winglord Starscream,” Optimus greeted, standing to shake the seeker’s hand, “We were not expecting you to be in attendance yourself, considering your condition.”

Starscream snorted and waddled his way over to his chair, easing down into it with the assistance of Slipstream and Thundercracker. “As if I would let you fools make decisions without me here. I will not let Vos be left out of Intergalactic politics.”

He could’ve sent a delegate in his place, or attended by Vidscreen, but Starscream always did have a flare for the dramatic. Not to mention his preference for always attending in person because it made his complaints harder to ignore.

Dismissing the two seekers at his wings, Starscream settled back in his chair and pulled a bag of energon goodies out of his subspace to munch on.

The meeting got started without further ado, picking up the debate on immigration policies between planets from the last Council meeting. A number of Cybertronians were interested in moving to colony planets, with their stable economies and intact infrastructure. At the same time, there were plenty of colonists interested in coming to live on Cybertron, where there were plenty of jobs that needed filling and a large market of war-weary mecha interested in entertainment and luxury products.

Vos had decided to allow in flight-frames of any type, though there was apparently still heated debate over whether ground-frames could apply for citizenship there. Kaon, with a naturally rather suspicious population of Decepticons, allowed very limited visitation there. Iacon was more open, but there still needed to be standards set into place.

Tourism was another important consideration, of course. The continued reconstruction of Cybertron was of great interest to many colonists, and most of the colony worlds could boast leisure activities that Cybertron did not.

Knock Out, the Velocitronian representation, was going on and on about the influx of Cybertronians to their race tracks when he suddenly stopped to glare at Starscream, “Must you?”

Starscream threw back another handful of energon goodies and munched noisily, “Which of us is fueling for 16? It is my duty as Lord of Vos to keep my future subjects happy and healthy.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stand for you stuffing your face while we’re trying to have an important discussion here.” Knock Out’s aristocratic face pulled into a sneer.

“Why you-“ Starscream braced both hands on the table, seemingly determined to get himself up out of his chair to claw at the Velocitronian.

“Alright, how about we take a short recess,” Optimus suggested, before things could escalate further. The last thing they needed was Starscream stressing himself into labor. “I suggest we all have a break, then reconvene in a joor.”

The other representatives quickly agreed, and the room emptied. Optimus attempted to help Starscream up, but the seeker just waved him off and stubbornly pushed himself upright before making his way out of the room. Self-reliant as ever, Optimus thought with a little chuckle.

Optimus left the room himself a few minutes later, intending to simply walk the halls of the building. He found he always worked through his thoughts best while pacing.

Eventually, Optimus found himself on the roof of the government building. It had a clear, beautiful view of the sky and featured a number of art pieces, sculptures, and benches from which to appreciate it all.

It was on one such bench that he found Starscream, leaning back against Thundercracker with his feet up in the lap of Ion Storm, happily receiving an ankle massage. It seemed the seeker Lord was easy to wrangle if you just knew how best to flatter him.

Just as Optimus was wondering where the other seekers had gotten to, the sound of loud, shrieking laughter filled the rooftop terrace and a pair of mechlings came dashing through the garden. The two little seekers were blurs of gold and black dodged around the art and statues, screaming loudly and looking over their wings at the menacing form of Sunstorm right on their heels. And they were coming straight for the Prime.

“Whoa, there, little ones,” Optimus laughed and crouched to scoop up the mechlings so they wouldn’t slam into his legs. He managed to grab the golden seekerling, but the black one slipped clean through his hands, then through his leg as well. Literally through, clearly the mechling had a very unique spark ability.

There was a purple flash and suddenly Skywarp appeared behind Optimus to intercept the escaping mechling, “Aha, gotcha!” The seeker straightened, laughing seekerling in his arms, “Oh, hey Prime. What’s up?”

Optimus chuckled and turned to face Skywarp, “I believe this is yours.” He held out the golden seekerling in his arms.

“I see you caught Sunflare,” Skywarp noted with amusement. “You gotta be faster, mechlet.”

“Nightshift’d been caught too, but he phased!” Little Sunflare protested, wiggling his way out of Optimus’s grasp. His brother dropped out of Skywarp’s hands as well, becoming intangible to slip right through his caretaker’s fingers.

“I see the sparklings have been doing well.” Optimus commented as Skywarp ran off after the two younglings again. “Have they all received their full names?”

“They have,” Sunstorm said proudly, watching the chase continue with Prime. “This clutch has gifted us with a wide variety of spark talents and personalities. As you can see, Nightshift can phase through solid mass.”

“I imagine that makes him a rather difficult mechling to keep track of.” Optimus smiled as he watched Nightshift go right through a statue, only to yelp when Skywarp teleported right in front of him.

“That’s why we sic Skywarp on him.” Sunstorm responded wryly. “Otherwise we’d never get him out of locked rooms.”

Across the roof, the seekerlings changed their tactics from escape to attack, Sunflare and Nightshift each grabbing onto one of Skywarp’s legs. The adult seeker reached for Sunflare, only for a bright flash of light to short out his optics and leave him staggering. With a loud battle cry, a third seekerling leapt down from atop one of the garden’s many statues and crashed into Skywarp’s helm, sending him toppling to the ground.

Sunstorm sighed and shook his head at the sight of Skywarp laying prone on the ground, the three seekerlings standing proudly atop him crowing their victory. “Nightshift, Sunflare, Lightningbolt! Leave your prey and come over here to greet your Prime properly.”

The trio scrambled off of Skywarp, who groaned loudly in defeat, and ran up to Optimus excitedly to introduce themselves. Optimus agreeably knelt to better greet the younglings, tolerating the many, many questions that fell from their lips with his usual patience.

Standing over them, Sunstorm looked between the three young seekers and frowned. “Hang on, why are there only three of you? Where’s Acid Lark?”

“He didn’t wanna play cause he’s boring!” Nightshift declared, crossing his little arms.

“Lark’s not boring, he just doesn’t like loud stuff.” Sunflare gave his brother a shove, knocking him into Lightningbolt. The light blue seekerling snarled and shoved back, which would’ve devolved into a full on brawl if another adult seeker hadn’t walked up.

“Stop that, you three.” Acid Storm said sternly, approaching the ground with a fourth seekerling in his arms. “And I’ve got Acid Lark right here. We were reading a datapad.” The green seeker belatedly realized that the Prime was there as well when the larger grounder stood back up.

“Hello, Acid Storm.” Optimus said with a formal nod. “And you must be Acid Lark.” He crouched slightly to better address the seekerling hiding in his caretaker’s arms.

The little seeker nodded shyly, the green shades of his armor blending well with that of Acid Storm’s. “Hi.”

With a fond pat to the helm, Acid Lark was set on the ground and nudged towards the other mechlings. Sunflare and Nightshift quickly seized the other sparkling by the arms and dragged him off to one of the crystal gardens, chattering all the while.

Optimus watched them go with a fond smile. It had been too long since the excited chirps of sparklings had filled the atmosphere on Cybertron. The planet was still rebuilding, would be recovering from their war for a long time to come, but clearly the seeker sparklings were not suffering for lack of love or support.

“Little menaces, aren’t they?” Starscream said fondly, dragging himself upright with the assistance of Thundercracker and Ion Storm.

“It is wonderful seeing sparklings playing without fear.” Optimus countered, watching the little ones dare eachother to try and climb one of the crystals. “You have clearly been doing well rebuilding Vos.”

“Of course I am,” Starscream preened at the compliment. “There is still much to be done, but Vos will be as great as it ever was. Now, then, we should probably get back to that meeting before the other delegates miss us.”

“Of course,” Optimus led the way back into the building, deliberately slowing his pace so as not to leave the egg-heavy seeker behind.

The Council of Worlds meeting continued as it usually did, with plenty of debating that was really only one insult away from full argument. The many clashing personalities sometimes made progress in decision-making difficult, though things eventually ended up hammered into a shape that everyone could agree with.

As things got heated, Starscream actually levered himself up out of his chair to lean his heavy girth on the table and better yell at one of the Camien delegates. It was Soundwave, as the one seated closest to the seeker, who was the first to notice the clear lubricant running down his thighs.

“Starscream: desist.” The heavily modulated monotone of the Kaonite representative cut through the seeker’s shrill voice.

Rounding on Soundwave, Starscream’s optics narrowed into vindictive red slits, “Soundwave, how dare you-“

“Suggestion: reschedule council meeting,” Soundwave didn’t flinch at becoming the subject of the Winglord’s ire, “Starscream: is in labor.”

“What’re you-“ Starscream stopped, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that his valve paneling had opened and gestational fluid was running down his legs. “I- oh.”

“Come on, Starscream,” Optimus stood and gently took the seeker’s arm, tugging him away from the table and towards the door where his Wingmates would be waiting. “Lets get you back to Vos. I’ll comm you when the meeting is rescheduled.”

Once the seeker was safely out of the room and in the care of his seekers, Optimus allowed himself to shake his head in amusement. Only Starscream. . .

The news later arrived that Starscream had laid 15 large, healthy eggs while on the shuttle transport back to Vos and that trines were already lining up to adopt them. Further hope for the future. Their war had destroyed Cybertron, and so they would rebuild it, no matter how much work it was or how long it took.


End file.
